


Netherworld Bride

by artysmartypigfarty



Category: Beetlejuice (1988), Beetlejuice (TV 1989), Beetlejuice - All Media Types, Beetlejuice - Perfect/Brown & King
Genre: F/M, Miscarriage, Multi, Sexual Content, beetlebabes, musical babes, netherworld adventures, rating may change later on
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-10
Updated: 2020-11-12
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:00:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 12
Words: 55,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22653637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/artysmartypigfarty/pseuds/artysmartypigfarty
Summary: What if instead of Charles following Lydia into the Netherworld, it’s her fiancée...set in musical verse, but will incorporate elements of all three
Relationships: Beetlejuice/Lydia Deetz, Charles Deetz/Delia Deetz/Adam Maitland/Barbara Maitland
Comments: 84
Kudos: 239





	1. Jilted Juice

**Author's Note:**

> Had this floating in my brain box, thought I’d give writing a try :)

Barbara’s scream cut through the noise like a sharp knife, it overpowered the other shouts of protest, clanking of chains and maniacal laughter coming from the demon who had just proposed to her. Lydia held the handbook in her trembling hands, feebly she turned a few pages, losing hope as the words seemed to make less and less sense 

“I don’t have a choice” she said aloud, she dared to look up at her father, at Adam and finally Barbara. “It’s my fault” her voice broke 

“ _ You _ wanted your Mom…” Beetlejuice hissed, taunting her, reminding her “You wanted me  _ gone _ ” In the midst of her chaos that comment registered. she’d never said that. She turned her eyes to his red countenance, His eyes were glowing amber as he stalked towards her like a predator cornering their prey. Gone was the poltergeist she’d terrorized with and here was the demon, the ghost with the most, her...fiancée? She stumbled over that last title, but another dying shriek from Barbara propelled the words from her mouth 

“Fine! I’ll do it! I’ll marry you!” she cried out throwing the handbook aside so it slid across the floor and disappeared beneath the table. There was no other way. She looked up at him again expecting to see him with the same twisted features but instead saw a flicker of surprise on his face, something else she couldn’t quite put her hand on before it turned to gleeful satisfaction. He shot his hand out and Lydia flinched expecting more violence only to hear the chains break and a thud as Barbara was released. 

“EXCELLENT! Well Babes now that that’s been arranged let’s get started! no time like the present! A Wedding!!” he rubbed his hands together giving the feel of a smarmy salesman “first we’ll need witnesses! Ain’t legal if we don’t have those...let’s see...ah Dad!” his flaming eyes fell on Charles. The Deetz Patriarch found himself released from the wall and pulled next to the demon “over there with Red, don’t worry...dowry’s on me” he waved his hand and flung the man so that he flew across the living room landing on the stripped couch beside Delia. Before either adult could move the couch grew arms and pinned them, tightening with each protesting movement. 

Lydia looked on, too shocked to move, what had she done...She needed to think...her mom would have known what to do…

“Adam, Babs...hmm” Beetlejuice stalked over to the Maitlands next. He had materialized a stack of envelopes in his hand and he flicked through them “ _ So  _ sorry...I don’t have your RSVP” he spoke in an affected voice, flicking his wrists so the envelopes disappeared and a piece of chalk appeared in his grip. “We wanted a small ceremony...family only...so looks like it’s finally time for you two to go to the Netherworld!” he growled stepping to the wall and dragging the chalk across it till he formed the outline of a door. His lips curled into a cruel smile as he rapt upon it three times causing it to creak open leaking a forboding acid green smoke into the room. 

Lydia was entranced as she was the first time she saw the door open. Her mom was in there...she’d know what to do...she could be with her mom finally...did anything else matter? Longing so powerful pulled at her heart, she felt like her own soul was being pulled towards the door just as Adam and Barbara’s body’s were literally doing just that. 

He was stalking towards her again, staring at her form and muttering. She didn’t want to know what he was planning

“WAIT” she cried out as Barbara’s foot threatened to disappear into the chartreuse abyss. The demon paused, turning his head in a threatening fashion. He raised a brow at her, was she dumb enough to test him again, she really didn’t want to see what would happen next. Sure he liked the kid but a deals a deal. “A-At least let me say goodbye” she said hurriedly, catching the expression on his face. She closed the gap between them, laying her hands on his chest imploringly. This  _ had _ to work. 

She watched the same expression flicker across his features again as he looked down at the hands resting on his striped chest. It disappeared quickly and was replaced with a sneer “Fine” he shouted, snapping his fingers so the Maitlands fell to the floor, the invisible force releasing them “Make it snappy I want cake!” he said leering down at her as she stood close. She broke away, her plan knitting together in her mind as she embraced Adam and Barbara 

“ _ goodbye _ ” she whispered “ _ take care of them”  _ she added before stepping back and bracing herself against the door frame. He didn’t even notice, he was too busy decorating. His back was turned to her as he conjured dozens of black and red roses, an arch way of decaying wood that was woven with decaying wisteria and glowing fireflys. 

“Hey Beetlejuice!” she called to him defiantly. He turned to look at her having transformed his striped suit into a blood red velvet three piece suit. He was beaming, it was beyond disturbing to see such an expression on his face.

“Yes Dear?” he called to her, raising a brow in mock concern.

“I’m going to the Netherworld” she placed her hands against the door ready to fling herself through if he made the slightest movement.

“What!?” came his voice, echoed by the other adults in the room. 

“Classic Balt-and-switch!  _ Oldest trick in the book”  _ she taunted before turning and jumping through. She was falling into death, like she should have that night four days ago when this nightmare had started. She’d be able to find her mother now, they’d be together, she wouldn’t be alone. These thoughts comforted her as she fell head over heel into the abyss.

….

“LYDIA! NO!” he called out as the girl disappeared before him. His shout was echoed by the other adults in the room, too bad she wasn’t the one with the cursed name or she’d be right back infront of him. Rage boiled in his stomach, why did everyone keep leaving him. Not this time, he wasn’t going to lose her. He wasn’t going to be alone again. He had waited a millennia to find someone, anyone who could see him, who called him into the world of the living and goddammit this minx was not going to stop him. He’d show her, he’d drag her back kicking and screaming...right to the altar…a deals a deal. For this ghost marriage wasn’t a joke, and if his little bride wanted to have cold feet well then, he was just going to have to warm them up. 

“Change if schedule, enjoy the cockroach hour” he snapped his fingers at the panicked adults in the room, instantly covering them with thousands of bugs, eliciting screams. He grasped the door knob firmly and yanked the door open as it was about to close. “Not so fast baby, No ones jilting the Juice” before stepping through


	2. Wishin' and Hopin' and Sprintin' and Runnin'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lydia crosses into the netherworld...will Emily be there as she hopes?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, the story is progressing...thank you for the kind words of encouragement, hopefully you like this addition!

Lydia felt like the proverbial Alice as she tumbled through space. Just as she thought the fall may never end she had the sensation of an invisible force hooking around her navel and halting her movement. She froze half fearing she may shoot back up from where she’d come, expecting Beetlejuice to be standing there yanking a string like she was a yo-yo. This didn’t come to pass however instead she felt herself turned upright and placed gently on her feet. It was dark all around her except for a spotlight in the same acid green that illuminated a checkered floor beneath her feet. The only thing she could see before her was a wooden door with frosted glass marked ‘waiting room’, it didn’t take much thought as this was the only place she could go. She crossed the small expanse of weathered linoleum to open the door, creaking it open as she looked inside. 

Whatever she had been expecting to find in the afterlife, it hadn’t been this. Bodies, gloriously disfigured and sentient sat all around the room. She was strongly reminded of the waiting room she had to sit in when Charles made a brief attempt to get her in therapy when Emily had first gotten sick. She paused taking in the scene, her eyes lingering on the figure of a woman wrapped in a towel who seemed to be trembling, no...she was sparking clutching a toaster in her lap. There was a woman split into two parts wearing a showgirls outfit, her legs beside her as they crossed, one foot tapping the air as if to mark the seconds going by as she waited. Lydia tore her eyes away and walked to the counter lifting her hand to rapt her knuckles upon the glass window. She stepped back as it was slung open with force, a beautiful woman, well...corpse was there, her pink hair done up in a bouffant so that her sparkling dress not obscured. She wore a sash across her chest that read ‘Miss Argentina’ and an expression of irritation as she looked at Lydia expectantly.

“What do you want Chicka, if you don’t have an appointment take a number and wait” she snapped looking down to riffle through the documents on her desk. Lydia rested both of her hands on the counter, caught between confusion and fascination. 

“I’m looking for my Mom…” she began her hands moving to come together so she could pick at the skin on her fingers anxiously. “She-” 

“Unless j’our Mama is Juno which” The deceased Argentinian held up a manicured hand to cut her off and made a show of looking her over before shaking her head “I’m pretty certain she is not then I cannot help-” she broke off as a buzzer went off on her desk. “Number 54 million, six hundred and one. Ferndock” she stood and called past Lydia. 

Hearing a grunt behind her the teen turned her head to see a violently pink man stood and hobbled forward. He appeared to have choked, having what looked like a spare rib lodged horizontally in his windpipe. As he approached a metal archway materialized in the wall where before had been molding wallpaper. Through it stepped another corpse, this one reminiscent of a TSA agent. Skin, scorched and smoking clad in an unflattering pair of frayed khakis and a button-up the figure had one working eye and a maggot hanging from the other empty socket. The man called Ferndock approached handing in his handbook as if it was a passport. The cover was flipped and an approving nod given so that the pink man could pass through. Instantly the archway glowed green. 

“Where does that go” Lydia asked with a sense of urgency, watching him fade into nothingness. “Is that where all the dead people go”

“Ay dios-mijo” Ms Argentina swore standing up and reaching to pull a ticket from the distributor on the counter. “Here!” she exclaimed shoving the long strip of paper into Lydia’s hand “get away from my counter and take a seat” 

With that she slammed the window shut and left Lydia staring at the frosted glass, the netherworld TSA agent was still there, looking at their crisped nailed absentmindedly. 

She couldn’t just take a seat, she needed to find her mom, she didn’t have time to wait...she had already done her waiting. Six months of it, six months of aching to talk to her mother, to talk about her, to have her anchor in life, to feel understood, to have someone finish a sentence with the phrase ‘ _Nevermore_ ’. She took a few steps to the side, a man with a grotesquely shrunken head in a hunters outfit turned his golf ball-sized orbs on her. 

What would these beings do if they realized she was alive, Was she still alive? Did crossing through somehow destroy her earthly form? She still felt human. She went to place a hand over her heart and then placed two fingers on her neck. Yes, there was her pulse, it was racing.

“You’re not gonna feel anything there sweetheart, you’re dead” came the voice of a man with a southern twang. She looked to him seeing only a severed neck and a pair of overalls, her eyes scanned down and found that his head was resting in his lap, clearly having been blown off. She gave a small noise of amusement and played along, looking back to the gateway to the netherworld.

All of the sudden the energy in the room changed. She felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up and saw the lights flicker. _‘Please don’t be...oh no no”_ she fought the impulse to turn her head and lost. Looking to the door of the waiting room as it swung open and he entered. Radiating with deathly energy, giving the aura of being a walking torrent of flame. Her fiancée. 

“shit” she breathed as his glowing eyes landed upon her. His lips curled up in a smile sending shivers down her spine. 

“There you are Babes…” he drawled as if she had stepped away for a breath of fresh air. “You scared me to _death_ ” his eyes betrayed his own amusement as his joke. He began to cross the room towards her and Lydia panicked. Much like before there wasn’t time to think, she bolted, shoving the TSA aside as they were staring at Betelgeuse with their mouth open she ran through the archway. Instantly it glowed red, emitting an ear-splitting siren sound that caused all the inhabitants to cover their ears. Propelled by her adrenaline Lydia kept running into the darkness, she didn’t take time to look where she was going, seeing only shadows and dark hallways as the siren seemed to only grow louder.

….

Beetlejuice arrived in the Netherworld easily, feeling the same sense of disdain for the place that he always did. Sure he could be seen here, but it still held an abundance of terrible memories and people he was loathed to deal with. Except for one, his little bride was here somewhere and he was going to find her. A game of cat and mouse, only he was the king of the rats and this sly kitten was not going to get the best of him. He ripped open the door to the waiting room, his eyes settling on her immediately. It was impossible to miss the way her living energy stood out in a room filled with death. He could practically hear her heart hammer against her chest as she saw him. Was she _scared_? He’d never managed to frighten her before, the feeling was intoxicating. If only he could get her to scream. Darker thoughts arose and he amused himself in a fraction of a second of the ways he’d make her apologize to him on their honeymoon. Of course, it wouldn’t be unpleasant for her, other then a sore throat and maybe difficulty walking afterward. 

“There you are Babes…” he said moving across the room to her. “You scared me to _death_ ” internally he chuckled at his pun, he watched her reaction carefully, if she was smart she’d give up the game and go with him. It wasn’t wise to keep taunting him, to go back on a deal with him. But giving up wasn’t something she did, no his Lydia liked to fight, liked to do the unexpected, had a will of her own. He’d later muse that he shouldn’t have been surprised when she bolted, pushing the guard out of the way and into the Netherworld 

“ _Shit_ ” he swore as she passed through the archway, immediately setting off every anti-breather protocol that had been put in place since Orpheus had his turn. She cast a panicked glance back at him before she kept running, having no idea that in this reality he was the least of her worries. He moved to go and chase her, to get her before she could make her fate (and his) any worse. 

The receptionists window flew open at that time, she let out a sound of surprise seeing him “Rayas!” she exclaimed “what are you...where did that...se va a la mierda” she swore slamming her hand down on the desk putting it together that the teen who had been pestering her moments before was the cause for the alarm. “You better not be involved in all of this Rayas, I’m gonna have to call-“ she made to pick up a phone receiver, that was the last thing he needed right now. He had a wedding to attend after all and that person was certainly not on the guest list. 

“why don’t you let me fucking handle it” He snapped juicing the phone out of her hands and flinging it so it embedded in the wall behind where the hillbilly would have had his head if it wasn’t sitting so conveniently in his lap. He didn’t even waste any more time and crossed through the glowing archway himself. It gave a light flicker of acid green as he did so before returning to its panicked red shriek. He needed to find her and fast before she screwed anything else up for them. 

…

Lydia ran as if the devil was chasing her, which for all intensive purposes he was. She had no clue how far she’d run or where she was, only that she appeared to be on a dark street, the sky above her had a deep magenta hue. The structures she could make out were twisted and deformed. She slowed her steps, clutching a stitch in her side as she tried to gather her thoughts. Her fingers gripped the hard stone wall and she tried to steady her breaths. Finding her mother was going to be harder then she anticipated 

“Mom?” she cried out, hoping by some miracle Emily appear in front of her. To her despair, though her expectation nothing came of it, she slid to the ground and rested her head in her knees all that she had been through coming to crash into her in a tidal wave of emotion. She couldn’t give up, she’d come this far, risked her life and had an angry demon to contend with. She had to think of something. Her head perked up as he heard the sound of approaching voices. She listened carefully, not catching the sweet sardonic voice of her mother, nor the gravelly crass voice of her demon she made no efforts to be seen. As quickly and as silently as she could she shuffled out of view, hiding behind the low stone garden wall and masking herself within the frail decaying shrubbery. She caught on that the individuals were looking for someone...someone living…they had to find this person soon...or someone would be angry...there was something about a law.

“They’re looking for me...” she whispered, watching as flashlight beams came into view. She shrunk back, hoping she wouldn’t be discovered. It seemed comical that a few nights ago she had screamed to her father that ghosts were chasing her in an attempt to get his attention. Now it had come true, and much like that night with her father, she felt powerless. Her back pressed against the stone wall, she running out of room to hide. The beam of light landed on her foot and one of the figures gave a shout that he’d found something. Fear arose in her and she scrambled to run again, taking off into an adjacent alleyway that appeared to be her only escape. She heard heavy footsteps running after her, the crack of bullets being released and whizzing past her as she covered her head. She flattened herself against the wall hoping to disappear for them to go past and leave her alone. All in an instant she felt the sensation of being grabbed, strong arms grew from the wall she was pressed against and trapped her against a cold chest. She went to scream but felt a hand cover her mouth, a gravely voice at her ear. The figure came out of the wall, moving them both forward. Lydia felt a shiver run down her spine as his lips grazed her neck as he hissed

“Don’t make a sound, you’ve already fucked up enough...don’t need to add more Babes” 

With that they both vanished, Lydia in the arms of her demon, dragged to some far corner of the Netherworld.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think, We'll see if Lydia is running quite as much in the next chapter or if our resident demon decides to take her shoes. Till next time Breathers<3


	3. The Ditched and The Deetz

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Having caught her during her sprint through the Netherworld...Beetlejuice takes his fiancee to his home to have a chat.

Beetlejuice released her the instant they landed in the roadhouse. He had been hard-pressed to let her go but did so as she thrashed against him. The smell of her fear was intoxicating. He had not gotten that reaction from her till now. She wrenched her body away; the second she touched the ground, she bolted. She had no idea where she was but still ran as far as she could away from him. She looked back over her shoulder and slowed her steps, confusion knitting across her face. 

“What?” he asked with a touch of amusement as she turned to face him apprehensively, “expecting me to chase you?” he flopped into his favorite ripped armchair leaning back, so the footrest popped up to support him. “If that’s the case, sorry to disappoint you, but I’m not going to” He idly crossed his ankles and looked at her lazily. The words’ Just Ditched’ were clearly written on the soles. Lydia resisted the urge to roll her eyes as she scowled, seeing them.

“I suppose you’ll go the method of extortion instead?” she asked, walking back over to him crossing her arms, she took a moment to scan the room trying to locate the exits. She noted doorways that led to other parts of the roadhouse finally spotting one large door that seemed to be her best chance for getting outside. “Or will you attempt to kill someone I care about again?” she quipped. 

Beetlejuice made a loud tutting sound and raised a finger at her in protest, shaking it from side to side.

“ah-ha-ha now Babes...you are the one that exorcised ol’Babs...lucky I was there really to clean up your mess.”

He loved watching her face tense with anger. Breathers had so many emotions and shuffled through them so fast. It was like a kaleidoscope turning so quickly from fear to rage to pleasure to despair.

“You tricked me,” she hissed, bristling at the insinuation that she had willingly put Barbara in harm’s way. She couldn’t recall the fondness she felt for him during those days alone in the house, right now all she wanted to do was slap him so hard his head would roll off across the dirty roadhouse floor. Beetlejuice gave a noncommital shrug in response 

“I didn’t tell you all the risks. Maybe if you asked for my help instead of getting rid of me, it wouldn’t have been an issue,”

he gave her a pointed look. 

Lydia opened her mouth to protest the statement and he interrupted her again, loving the flush of irritation that appeared once more. 

“Look, Babes, we could go back and forth about how we’ve screwed each other over...tit for tat and all that, but it’s not gonna get us anywhere.” 

he sat up, so the footrest went back in place, and his feet were on the ground. “

We had a deal you backed out on...and now if we don’t move quickly shits really gonna hit the fan,” he said as he stood up and moved towards her. 

She crossed her arms and didn’t flinch as the distance between then lessened.

“More scare tactics?” she asked in a bored tone “You keep trying to con me Beej...its really getting exhausting.” 

He smirked in response at her, admiring his little cynic. She was so sure of herself, so confident that he was the bad guy in all of this, which, to be fair, he certainly wasn’t innocent, but she had no idea of the forces she was messing with. 

“This time it ain’t a con Babes...you saw the alarms that went off when you came through...the Netherworld doesn’t take kindly to the living…” he reached out and tucked his finger beneath her chin, the warmth of her soft skin against his cold dead hand was evidence to her plight. “They’re gonna be looking for you...hunting to make sure you don’t get out alive...Punishing you for breaking the natural cycle of life and death,”

He tilted her head up to look at him. Waiting for his words to sink in, holding up a piece of chalk in his other hand, “Now we need to get you back before they find out, you may not like it, but I’m your best bet.” 

Lydia held his gaze doing her best to look unbothered. “I already told you I wanted in…so what makes you think I’m afraid of being here forever?” she said in response, “I want to find my mom.” her voice betrayed her in that vulnerable statement. 

He scoffed at her about to interrupt with what she mused was likely either a dismissive statement of how parents were the worst or an uncomfortable spill of his traumatic past. She held a hand up to him and pressed on before he could speak, 

“It’s my  _ goddamn _ life Beetlejuice... I’m sick and tired of everyone trying to control it...you know that... that’s why I summoned you in the first place, and now you’re trying to do the exact same fucking thing.” she hissed, going to shove her hand against his chest. 

He made a show of stepping back as if the tiny hand shoved at him was enough to get him to lose his footing. He liked it when she had the allusion she was in control, the power went to her head and brought out the cockiness he had been enraptured with when he met her on the rooftop. Beetlejuice tilted his head from side to side as he observed her, moving to close the distance between them again. 

“Look, kid, I’m not trying to control you,” he countered standing, so their toes were touching “You’ve had a choice in all of this...did I stack the deck?  _ Sure.  _ Did I point to the wrong page in the manual?  _ Oops _ . Did I give you an out in exchange for an advantage of my own... _ Guilty _ ... You’ve had a choice this whole time... it’s not my fault you don’t like your options... _ However _ , if the powers that be find you...which without me they’re guaranteed to do you’re not gonna get a single fuckin’ element of choice in any of this.” 

He held up the chalk again “Your options are to go back with me, be my bride and we’re both free of this place…or run from me, let them find you, and at best spend the rest of your eternity stuck in a painful cycle of menial bureaucracy” he waved the chalk in front of her face. “You want to be stuck doing work like Tina in the waiting room? Pushing a rock up a hill like Sysiphis? Maybe you fancy picking up shifts at Dante’s inferno? Hey, at least you wouldn’t be invisible there...maybe I’ll even come to visit,” He taunted. 

His eyes flashed dangerously at his last comment, having managed to agitate his own feelings with his little joke. He would tear apart the entire fucking Netherworld to keep from sharing his Lydia. She was his alone.

His thoughts were broken by his reluctant fiancee in question slapping his hand away from her face. He took a moment to allow the leering self-satisfied expression to settle back in over his features. She scowled at him breaking away and going to sit on the beaten up black couch that was adjacent to his armchair. She sunk her head forward into her hands, resting her elbows on her knees. She was trying to take it all in, to think, and weigh her options. Betelgeuse watched and waited, twirling the chalk in his hands lazily.

Lydia wrapped her fingers in her hair, thinking over the facts he had laid out. She didn’t know what to do. On the one hand, she knew he wasn’t trustworthy. She’d been conned by him and watched him con countless people in the time they spent together. He was a self-serving demon who had very clear goals to get out and basically fuck shit up. She also knew that he had a point. She didn’t belong here; she was mortal and still had connections back on the other side. In the time before he found her, she had heard snippets of what those beings were looking for. She’d seen the alarms and reactions of those in the waiting room who chased after her.

What’s more, she wasn’t an idiot and had read her fair share of mythology. She’d devoured the dark tales of ghostly punishments and misadventures of tragic heroes. He’d mentioned Sysiphis, were the rest of them true? Were they all true? She didn’t have a lot of hope for her future, to begin with, losing her mother had caused her outcome to become dark and limited. Still, in the bleakness of her grieving mind, she’d hoped that she might get away one day, go back to her home in new york, travel to the catacombs across the world on the hunt for amontillado. Maybe he was her best bet, after all. At the End of the day, he knew more about the Netherworld then she did. He was her best chance at surviving even if it meant being bound to him for eternity. It was comically similar to the predicament she’d been facing the first time she’d uttered his name. Something within her warned her that it was a bad idea, but another...stronger voice urged that it was the only way. 

“Okay,” she uttered, finally lifting her head and smoothing her hair behind her ears as she turned to look to him. He was flicking the chalk back and forth in his hand like it was a pendulum on a clock. He’d chosen to add an annoying click of the tongue to punctuate the passage of time as he waited.  _ ‘Irritating asshole,’  _ She thought, though she considered she should be grateful he hadn’t opted for the jeopardy theme. 

“Alright...I will marry you...for  _ real  _ this time...but before we go back,” she watched as he tensed, his features shifting as they betrayed his wariness and barely contained rage. She paused, “I want you to help me find my Mother,” she ventured, her voice threatened to betray her more vulnerable emotions as she continued. “Look, I know you don’t get it...but my mom...she was my everything...I will give anything just to talk to her again... I’m going to do this with or without you…” She stood and crossed the room, going to place her hand on his imploringly. 

Beetlejuice frowned at her, flickers of rage showing up as red streaks in his hair. His brows raised as she walked over to him, the warmth of her small hand settling against his larger one. 

“Your mom is dead…” he said bluntly “she’s in the Netherworld, do you know how many fucking people are in the Netherworld Babes? A shit-ton...every asshole breather that’s ever lived is here, and you want to just go and find her?” he asked incredulously. 

Did she think his warning was a joke? Some sort of plot device to get her down the aisle. ‘ _ She does have a reason to think that’ _ came a voice in the back of his head. He quickly silenced it. Now that they were back in the Netherworld, his magic worked differently. He didn’t need his inner thoughts manifesting over his shoulders and detailing his struggle for the mortal before him to see. 

“For satan’s sake, kid…” he groaned, turning from her to pace, his hand going to run through his tangled mop of hair. He blinked, finding a beetle nestled in his tresses, taking it out to look at it in surprise before flicking it across the room, he couldn’t stomach it at a time like this. He had to think. 

She had threatened to go on her quest alone. She would to...his Lydia didn’t stop once she had something that she wanted. Normally he wouldn’t give two shits if someone wanted to put their life in danger, but there was something about this girl that stopped him. She was a passionate sadistic dark vixen wrapped in fishnets and draped in a death shroud. He’d lived for over millennia, seen and screwed countless numbers, and no singular being had ever captivated him as she had. No one was going to touch his Lydia. She was his, in almost every aspect, and if all went to plan, he’d settle that in due time as well. Sure the marriage threatened to speed things along, but there would be plenty of time to win her over after the vows were exchanged. She was his key to get out of this place, but more than that, she was the only one to see him when no one else had. He wasn’t about to let that go without a fight. 

“Three days,” he said holding up his fingers to emphasize his point “three days we try to find your Mom and even if we can’t that’s the end” He could spend three days trying to find some breather, it was his ticket to the living world...who knows...he might even be successful with it and get himself more points in her book. She needed him here, and he needed her on the other side. Both scenarios would lead to prohibiting him from ever being alone again. He just needed to be patient.

...

Lydia’s mouth creased into a frown. Three days was not enough time. What if they couldn’t find her? She didn’t have the slightest clue of where to even begin to find someone here, her mad dash from the waiting room had only brought confusion and utter despair as she realized how infinite the Netherworld was. She needed him to guide her through. It was his world, not her own. She had more to lose than she originally mused when she flung herself into this abyss, an eternity of painful bureaucracy, being stuck in the underworld not able to see anyone she cared about again, even her mother. She thought of the Maitlands and her Father, consumed with worry for her but never being able to see her again. If they aimed to punish her, then she could scarcely see them allowing her any form of closure. She thought of Ms. Argentina in the waiting room, perpetually stuck handing out numbers and dealing with files. If this is what it was, she wasn’t sure she wanted  _ in  _ anymore. 

“Alright, three days,” she agreed “if you’re really the Ghost with the most, then it shouldn’t be a problem for you” She stuck her hand out for him to shake. He grasped it. She felt the cold chill creep into her hands, signifying the acceptance of the deal. With her hand clasped tightly in his, he pulled his arm forward, wrenching her closer so that their faces were almost touching. His other hand moved to grab her upper arm in a tight grip. 

“Don’t even think about cutting out of this deal, Babes,” he said in a low warning voice. His breath like an icy blast skating across her face as he hissed down at her. “You don’t want to see what happens when this Ghost runs out of patience.” he released her all at once, he hadn’t gripped her tight enough to hurt, but her skin still bore the mark of his hands having been there. She shivered, admitting to herself that he did have a reason to be angry with her. There was more than one occasion in which she agreed to something and backed out on him. She was smart and self-serving, it served her well most times, but she saw his threat ring true in his glowing amber eyes. His power entranced her, but she didn’t want him angry at her, for more reasons then the perfunctory ones that ran to mind. 

“It’s almost like you don’t trust me,” she said, attempting levity, recalling the ease of their relationship that had been present before the mess that came up with the handbook. She closed the distance between them again, raising a brow at him.

“As if you trust me?” he quipped in response tilting his head to her. 

“Not as far as I can throw you…” she smirked up at him. She reached her hand up to pat his cheek twice. She moved away, spotting the smug look that was starting to grow on his face despite his attempts to hide it. Standing that close to him should terrify her, especially as he had forced her to the roadhouse not moments ago and threatened her very existence. Perhaps in addition to being strange and unusual, she was insane as well. Her danger sense didn’t seem to be working, not that they ever had.

“Well then,” he ventured, going to take her chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Guess we better get started on finding your old lady.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I will try and work out another chapter very soon!


	4. Trousseaus, Trips and Traps

The moment the door to the Netherworld slammed shut Charles Deetz was faced with more terror and anxiety he could have ever thought possible. He didn’t register the disgust he felt with the thousands of cockroaches that now covered every inch of the room. Otho let out an inhuman yell and made to flee from the house, throwing himself at the front door in his attempt to escape. His attempt was unsuccessful as the demon had locked it before chasing after his runaway bride. The misguided guru then opted for the next best thing, throwing himself threw the window and escaping onto the lawn covered in bits of glass. Charles began to react then, Delia beside him was swatting away roaches, she seemed to be trying to take deep breaths to calm herself however they were so frenzied she was having a more successful time hyperventilating rather than self-soothing. The creatures were crawling all over, in varying sizes. Some of them appeared to be satanic variations with pincers that tore at the skin and clothing of the living people. He yelled and immediately regretted it, the bugs taking over and crawling into his mouth, blocking his airway. He tried to spit them out but there were simply too many. The demon has spared no malice when leaving this treat behind, his intent to torture and kill was deliberate. Oh god, he was going after his Lydia, his daughter and there was nothing he could do! Above his despair he heard frantic voices.

“Barbara are you alright!?” came the first voice, male and full of concern. Charles didn’t recognize it. He mused it must have been one of the ghosts, it didn’t sound like the one he’d seen trapped in the soul box, her voice had been shrill and full of panic when she screamed in terror as she was exorcised. 

“Oh Adam! this is awful!” there, that was her voice. He called out to them, or attempted to despite the insects closing his throat. His arm reached up in a desperate attempt to get their attention. He saw a flash of green approaching him, the form of a woman who knelt at his side. He heard other footsteps-  _ did ghosts have footsteps?’ -  _ moving in the direction he’d last seen Delia. 

“I don’t know how to…I think I had some termite repellent under the porch but-”

“WE’RE GHOST DAMMIT!” she shrieked, Charles could feel small cold hands brushing over his face trying to clear his mouth of bugs. 

“Right, ok - ok uh...MAITLANDS 2.0!” came the male voice in a frenzied call. It seemed to work as some sort of war cry as the ghost harnessed their energy to drive the bugs away through the window Otho had shattered. Charles sat up with a shout, coughing and sputtering what remained of exoskeletons in his mouth. He reached out for Delia who was being supported by a man in a green plaid shirt. It appeared when he had gotten the bugs away from him she’d flung herself at the nearest body in relief. Charles turned his head and looked at the woman next to him, she had a kind face, etched with concern as she looked at him. 

“T-thank you” he gasped hands going to run over where the bugs had torn at his skin. She placed a hand on his arm, the cool touch of her ghostly essence felt soothing on the raw skin. He recognized her as the woman who had been trapped in the soul box.

“I’m Charles Deetz” he said, adopting formality in the face of the unfamiliar and extending a hand to her. She smiled softly “Barbara Maitland” she answered taking his hand and using it to pull him up to his feet. There were a small number of bugs still on the floor, the younger ghosts magic was not enough to completely eradicate the work of a demon but had at the very least lessened the number. Charles found himself thinking of the exterminators he was going to have to call for quotes, sinking into logistics to avoid the rising fear he felt inside. 

“This is my husband Adam” the blond woman offered as she gestured to the man in plaid whom Delia was still sobbing on. The redheaded life coach lifted her head slightly “Delia” she sniffled pulling back so she could stand up and cling to Charles shoulder. The couples looked at each other for a moment, unsure of what to say and what to do. They all felt the mutual pull of concern for Lydia, the despair of what to do and knowing that there was little they could do. 

“Oh god I’m so worried” Barbara was the first to speak, putting her hands to her head and tangling her fingers in her curls. “She’s just a little girl all alone with that monster”

Charles felt his chest tighten, he had failed his daughter, his own flesh and blood, he’d left her alone with the demon for three days in this house, had not been able to form words when he forced her to accept his proposal and had exposed her to all of this simply for the sake of gaining favor with Maxie Dean. He had wanted so badly to move forward, to move away from the enormous loss of losing Emily and it had cost him was the single living reminder that his union had been real. - _ Extermination Pricing will need consults and exterminators, will have to pay for fumigation, pay them well so there’s no record of service when we try to sell the house- _ His mind interrupted his grief retreating to the shallow waters where he was comfortable. You couldn’t be consumed by grief or panic if you refused to feel it. He shook his head, he couldn’t retreat at a time like this, Lydia needed him. He needed to change and at least make some effort to rectify all of his inaction.

“So Ghosts...I mean Barbara...Adam” he began quickly changing his tune, he needed to be genuine in the moment. Running his hand over his face he revealed a weary expression “I-how-” he couldn’t find the words to begin gesturing to the place where the door had been “do you know anything about...where they went...?” 

“No” Barbara admitted bringing her hands from her hair to clasp them together over her chest. “We had never seen the book until Ly-” she broke off wincing “she brought it upstairs to us...it seemed dangerous...it was dangerous…” 

“She had us draw a door...it said...all ghosts must proceed directly to the Netherworld...we didn’t read after that point” Adam chimed in going to put an arm around his wife. “The door...each time its opened there’s been this pull...like we’re supposed to go in there” 

“Why didn’t you?” asked Delia from her place on the sofa, her hands were clasped around the crystal around her neck rubbing it fervently. Charles strode towards the wall as they spoke, running his hands over where the door had been searching for some tiny crack that might allow him to wrench it open and chase after them. 

“We didn’t want to leave Lydia behind...this wasn’t a life for her, living in a haunted house with that thing” He heard Barbara speak, the maternal care in her voice was not lost on him.He didn’t know if she’d ever had children but the warmth and nurturing essence that exuded off her being spoke of great love to give…it would be a shame if she had passed before she could give it. It was a small comfort to him that Lydia had at least encountered this kind-hearted spirit in the house. 

“I wonder if there’s more in the book...We only read that one page...” Adam offered moving towards where handbook had landed when Lydia threw it across the floor. He reached to pick it up, a painful ache in his heart remembering the moment he, Barbara and Lydia had bonded over being old book smell people. Once in his hands he crossed the room to sit beside Delia on the couch. The redheaded woman was still fervently stroking the crystals around her neck, she appeared to only have a vague idea of what was going on. Cracking the text open it gave off an eerie glow in the dark room, Adam gleaned his way through the table of contents. 

“is there anything?” came Barbara’s anxious voice from beside him. 

“This thing reads like stereo instructions” Adam said in frustration “it’s written like the fine print on a contract” he sighed taking his glasses out of his pocket and slipping them on his face. Hearing the term contract Charles walked back over looking over the other man’s shoulder to review the table of contents.

“What about that chapter” he said pointing a broad finger at the text “chapter 39 Seances and summonings? Could we call her back?”

“Beetlejuice had that whole business about calling his name out three times? would it work for-“ 

“Lydia! Lydia! LYDIA!!” Delia suddenly shrieked her eyes closed and hands balled in fists. Her expression was hopeful, yet as she opened her eyes and noted the continued absence of the melancholy teen her face fell. 

“there’s got to be something in here…”

…

Finding a singular soul in the Netherworld was the type of task Beetlejuice would have “accidentally” tossed right into the shredder if it came across his desk while he was employed by Juno. It was pointless, exhausting and difficult to do unless the person made some sort of ruckus in the living world. From all Lydia had complained about wanting a sign he could glean that her mother had not so much as knocked a vase over. ‘ -‘ _ Typical...Mother neglecting child calling for help’ _ \- he scoffed to himself. Feelings from his own experience flared up like a rash as he flipped through the netherworld phonebook.

“what was her name again?” he asked in a bored tone. Lydia hovered above his shoulder trying to look at the pages he was flipping through. 

“Emily Deetz” she answered quickly 

“maiden name?” came his reply

“Uh...Addams” she recalled figetting with one of the safety pins on her dress. He snapped his fingers and the book snapped to the ‘A’s’

“is everyone really just listed in that book?” Lydia asked, perhaps this was going to be easier then she thought. Barely looking up from the book Beetlejuice replied “listed yes, easy to find no” he trailed his black tipped finger down the page searching through the countlessly small writing “the world is sorted into zones, family name decides what zone you go to when you bite it...type of death designates what you do, and of course how much of a piece of shit you are picks just how miserable your non-life is in the abyss” 

“Addams...here...we go…” he tapped the small print where he found the name tapping it with excitement. He leapt up from his seat, snapping his fingers so he was back in his signature striped suit. He ran his thumbs along his suspenders snapping them back on his chest “Alright Babes, time to go meet the other set of in-laws…” Lydia was caught off by the movement and didn’t react fast enough to avoid his hand as it trapped her chin between his thumb and forefinger 

“Hope you’ve got your trousseau all picked...though if you need help choosing I’ll be ok with ruining the surprise to help you out” he leered at her. “I’m quite a fan of lace and thongs if you were wondering…” She gave him a pointed look as she turned away

“Well now that I know I’ll be certain to pick one up in your size ” The grin widened on his face as slid up beside her. 

“Pick me up whatever you’d like...it won’t be on for long...you’ll be tearing it off with your teeth” his voice walked a fine line between seduction and threat. Lydia didn’t allow herself to question the reaction it stirred in her, she twisted to face him again crossing her arms over her chest 

“Are we going or not?” she asked. Beetlejuice chuckled darkly and went to move towards the front door beckoning for her to follow. Just before he opened the door he stopped turning towards her again “ah one more thing” Lydia paused apprehensively watching his fingers snap. She felt a strange sensation come over her much like an egg had been cracked over her head and ran down her body. Looking down she gave a yelp of surprise. Her skin had taken on a deep violet hue. She ran her hands along her dress in an attempt to wipe it off but remained, as did the grass stains that now appeared on her dress. Her eyes rose to his looking for an explanation. 

“ Ya can’t go walkin’ through the netherworld lookin’ like a breather kid” he informed her. “Anyone asks you fell off the roof” he chuckled darkly as she glared at him “it felt fitting” Try as she might to appear angry he noticed her lips were fighting the urge to turn up in a smile. “Do you want me to add the birdbath?” She looked down and saw that the base of the birdbath was sticking out of her midsection. She reached to touch it in fascination but it was gone before she could do so. He seemed to have upset himself with the visual given the way his face twisted. 

“Hey I wanted to be impailed”

“If thats what you want Babes say the word and I’ll impail ya” he winked at her. 

“Whatever, lets go” she scowled going to push past him out of the front door. He allowed her to walk past but stretched his arm to wrap around her waist putting her behind him “Ya don’t know where we’re going Babes” he chided continuing out the front door ahead of her. He walked over to the garage, the door sliding up to reveal a yellow dragster. The vehicle sprang before them, honking in greeting. Beetlejuice heard Lydia breathe in surprise and turned his head to see her expression. Her eyes were alight with fascination, dark lips parted in a smile. He moved to get into the car ready to get on their way. The dragster gave a protesting honk, demanding introduction going as far as to nudge forward slamming its hood near the demon’s hand. 

“Hey! What the fuck was that for!” he snapped raising his hand as if to strike the vehicle “I could tear you apart bolt by bolt till that fuckin’ junkyard I got you from wouldn’t even take you back!” 

Lydia pushed his shoulder getting between him and the car which had been reving its engines angrily. This was all taking to long, she was concious of the invisible timer ticking down. Adam and Barbara mentioned time worked differently when you were dead, she mused it was probable that the same logic extended to the Netherworld. She placed a hand on the hood that snapped at Beetlejuice’s hand. 

“Greetings Car I am Lydia Deetz” she offered formally. She felt the engine hum beneath her hand, the headlights blinking at her. “Its very nice to meet you” She smiled patting the hood like it was an enthusiastic puppy. 

“Thats’s Doomie” growled Beetlejuice wrapping his hand around Lydia’s arm and pulling her up. “Thought you were in a rush” he snapped pushing her towards the passenger side. He got in the drivers seat and waited for her to get in before smacking the dashboard. The car gave a protesting honk as the engine sprang to life. Beetlejuice wrapped his hands around the steering wheel and pushed forward on the gas. Lydia had obliged getting in the car, the smirk on her face growing as he drove forward still scowling at the car. 

“I knew you were insecure but didn’t expect you to get jealous of a car” she drawled looking out at the changing scenery as they left the garage. Her brown eyes flicked to watch his reaction, his emotions presenting themselves so clearly in his countenance. The tips of his hair flickered purple and yellow. 

“One of these days I’m going to give you something to shut that mouth up” he replied through gritted teeth, twisting the wheel so the car turned sharply onto the suspended roadway. Lydia chuckled quietly in response as she moved to lean out of the side to get a look at what was below. The abyss seemed to strech out infintley below them, she could only make out slight shapes in the murky darkness. She let out a noise of suprise as a cold hand reached out an grabbed her a fistfull of fabric at the small of her back, wrenching her back into her seat. 

“Stay in your seat for the remainder of the ride please” Beetlejuice spoke in what was his play of the automated 

voice heard so often at amusement parks. Whether it was to keep her from falling or to grab at her ass he had used his spare hand to do so. Lydia rolled her eyes but obliged 

“Are you going to tell me where we are going?” 

“Virgin Islands, I thought that’d make a fun pre-honeymoon...though I’d suppose the islands wouldn’t be too virgin when we left them”

“Fuck you” 

“Yes dear thats the point” he wheezed with laughter as she moved to swat at him angrily. That blush of irritation fluttering across her face even faux death hue. 

“You’re fucking impossible” she sighed crossing her arms over her chest. She tapped her foot irritated spending the rest of the ride in silence. It took what felt like half an hour for them to arrive at their destination. Beetlejuice parked the dragster and got out. Lydia barely had time to unbuckle her seatbelt before he was at her door. 

“What are you doing?” she asked as he put his hand out for her to take. He seemed on edge now that they were out in public. He was practically growling at her as he took her hand into his own. 

“Just work with me Babes...” he grunted, his grip was firm but not painful. Lydia allowed herself to be helped out of the car keeping close to him. She watched as he scanned the area a few times before urging her towards a set of wraught iron gates. 

“What are you so worried about?” she asked observing him. His hair was a sickly chartruse color, it didn’t carry the usual vibrance of his typical emerald mane. He exuded electrity, his glowing amber eyes darting this way and that as they walked. She’d never seen him look this nervous, it brought an uneasy feeling out in her. What would be enough to shake the confidence of the self proclaimed ghost with the most? Beetlejuice gave a slight shake of his head and trained his features to appear neutral. 

“Nothin’ Babes...just feelin’ a bit anxious” he replied quickly “you know...I was supposed to be consumatin’ my marriage right about now” even his lecherous comment to her fell flat, the leer he threw down at her lacked its bravado. The hand resting on the small of her back was protective rather then seeking to grope her flesh. 

…

The cigarette pinched between Juno’s fingers threatened to burst under the pressure she was applying. She had the file in open before her reviewing the case that appeared to be nothing but blunder after blunder. The Maitlands had never gone to the Netherworld, had never registered, hadn’t been judged. They didn’t appear to have even gotten their handbook. She’d be sure to follow up with that error, or at least that is what she had assured the powers that be for each and every mistep that was the Winter river case. It wasn’t just the Maitlands either, the Deetz family was proving to be same model of albatross even if this one still had life left in it. They had not only seen the spectres’s they shared a home with but had conversed with them, if reports were to be believed had shown them to Breathers outside of their home! At some point the handbook had made its way to the home and fallen into the lap of the youngest breather. That mortal in question was allegedly running around the Netherworld. It was an absolute mess and was on her to clean up. 

Fucking typical, she was stuck with this shitstorm to settle. Of course...Isn’t that how it always was? She had to answer for all the inadequacys beneath her and accept the criticism of those above her in the chain. She had to assure that the system was working, that she could manage it lest she recieve an even worse punishment than the millenia of civic service laid out before her. Though the threat of existence was unkown it was palpable. She didn’t doubt the forces ability to make her current life seem like a blissful vacation. For not the first time she regretted the self-inflicted slash across her neck. It seemed like such a good idea at the time, an escape from her crumpling marriage and affair, bankrupcy and pending legal charges. Yeah, she’d gone hard back in the day. She’d lived on borrowed time and supressed the need to sleep with equal parts concealer and cocaine. She’d made and lost an incredible amout of money. Married a rich man, Seduced a mob boss and then extorted the both of them. She took a long drag from the cigarette, smoke billowed up from the slit in her esophogas. Now was not the time for reminiscing, now was the time for action. 

She pushed herself back from her desk, resting her cigarette in her ashtray as she reached for a bottle in her drawer. She swirled its cool blue contents and ripped the stopper off before downing it. A shiver ran down her spine as its content made its way through her system, bringing with it a sense of calm. She discarded the bottle and lifted her cigarette again giving the slightest flick of her fingers causing a stack of papers to appear. They bore the name and visage of the renegade mortal flouting the systems that had been in existance for all eternity. Juno brought her cigarette down and burned a hole in the top one. The fire disfigured the appearance of the dark beauty. “That’ll be the least I do to her” she murmered darkly as she lifted the stack of paper up and brought it to her assistant. 

“I want these hanging up in ever sector of the Netherworld immediately” she punctuated her statement by dropping the sheets onto the Argentinian’s desk with a loud smash.

…

Together Beetlejuice and Lydia made their way through the sector of the Netherworld designated for all those whos maternal ancestors surname started with A. The sectors were enormous Lydia came to understand. They reminded her of the photographs she’d seen of italy. Tiny winding streets with impossible numbers of dwellings marked within the towering stone walls. Lydia found herself being tugged along by Beetlejuice, almost as if the quest had been of his own design. 

“How many people are in here?” she breathed not even looking ahead of her at this point. He found himself caught between amusement and irritation as he pulled her along. The way she looked at the world he hated was compelling. She saw wonder where he saw confinement, magic where he saw misery, potential where he saw pain. 

“I don’t know” he admitted “there’s no guarantee we’ll find her” he added. He had warned her before, used it as a reason to deter her from the quest and force her hand. In this instance his tone seemed softer, even if only for a moment. He couldn’t stand to see the hope that was lingering in her soulful brown eyes. The Netherworld wasn’t a place for hope, it was a dominion of despair where nothing ever progressed or improved. It wasn’t the place for a breather like her, or in his opinion a demon of his own calliber. He grabbed her shoulders and forced her to look at him 

“Look at me” his glowing amber eyes bored into her own “you get that right? This isn’t some simple quest...but the deal stands...three days” 

Lydia tilted her head to the side as he glowered down at her. Each time he mentioned their impending nuptials the words were heavy with threat but this utterance felt different. Was that concern? No way. The rough hands on her shoulders giving her a shake pushed that possibilty from her mind. 

“I get it, three days...what the fuck Beetlejuice I’m not stupid” she moved to twist out of his grip “what is it with you and the number three!?” He released her pinching his nose in frustration, He told himself it was all about their deal, getting them both out and getting that ring on her finger. He could just as easily lead her on a wild goose chase rather then finding the bitch she was after but there was something pulling him to do this for her. He wanted to see her happy, It was his favorite of the emotions she wore, one he had only seen flickers of it during their time together. To often it was overcome by sadness. Even when he was able to get a rift of sadistic giggles from her after a scare it was short lived. 

Of all the emotions Breathers had Happiness fascinated him the most. He’d felt flickers of other emotions. Feelings like anger, sadness, fear, lust even at times excitement. They were poignant but fleeting. It was hard for him, or really any other netherling to produce a genuine positive feeling on their own. It was what kept the seedy underbelly of the underworld afloat. Breathers could be harvested for their emotions, of course it was difficult given the barrier between the worlds. Rarity made it elusive, demand made it lucrative. A small few had figured how to harvest feelings from the breathers. They sought out the occultists, those who craved to speak to the dead whether it be in official practice or tweens huddled around a ouija board. They used the rift in the worlds to siphon the feelings, distilling them to give to the inhabitants of the Netherworld who craved just a taste of what it meant to be alive. He’d sampled a few of the varieties in his time. No one would soon forget the incident that took place when he’d merely taken a sip of lust and combined with his natural ethereal libido managed to fuck his way through the whole whorehouse twice over. This mortal before him, his betrothed was a veritable well of emotions. If he failed and she fell into the wrong hands it would be disastrous. His jaw clenched with anger, no one was going to touch his Lydia. Not without- 

“BEEJ!” came her angry voice as she slapped his face. He barely registered the tiny hand striking him but it brought him back to the current moment “get your shit together, imagine my clothing back on me and let’s get this done” 

“sure Babes…”

  
  
  


  
  



	5. Registers and Registries

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry this took so long to get out, got stuck with a bad dose of writer's block but finally got through!

The Netherworld went by different names, the underworld, hell, the bad place, the land of the dead, all of the titles it bore indicated an absence of life. Yet despite its lack of being, it was a veritable well of activity. With no relation to time and no need for sleep, the inhabitants never stopped moving, finding new ways to entertain themselves in the abyss. Of course, this was the place for those not good enough to get into paradise. There was a small select few who made it into the utopia described in various religions. Those who were perfect, genuinely pure, and records were flawless from the time they were conscious enough to have free will. Most were children who'd died before their time or on the rare occasion saintlike individuals who barely resembled humans in their pious reactions to any anticipated stressor. Juno had never crossed paths with any of them during her time in the underworld. She knew they existed thanks to her brief training as part of being indicted into the world of civic service. She brought a cigarette to her lips and inhaled. Smoking was an abundant vice here. Despite the fact, it had been the thing that lead to the demise of some of the inhabitants. She brought the cigarette down to tap over the railing. Ash scattered into the stale air and flittered away into the abyss. She turned around to face the approaching clatter of heels signifying Ms. Argentina's arrival in her office. 

"I've made sure the flyers are up everywhere, is there anything else you need to be done?" inquired the former beauty queen. Juno moved to sit at her desk and riffled through the papers again. "Clear my afternoon...I think I'm going to have to go topside to deal with part of this," she sighed, studying the Maitland file. Ms. Argentinia glanced at the clipboard in her hand and grimaced. 

"Ay...' dats going to cause a backup" she shook her head, riffling through a seemingly endless stack of papers. She met her superior's gaze and quickly added, "but what else do they have to do! They're dead!" she chirped and plastered an award-winning on her face. Juno shut the file response and went to tuck it under her arm as she stood. 

"Exactly," she moved from behind her desk. "If any of the higher-ups come here, do not try and handle it on your own, page me" she cast the woman a withering look. She was decent help most days, but Juno wasn't about to trust her job and afterlife sentence to the former beauty queen. With a nod, she stepped into the hallway of doors that would bring her to her destination. 

...

Beetlejuice and Lydia made their way through the tiny streets of the Netherworld at an even pace. Lydia marveled at how he could find his way in this place. Beetlejuice seemed sure of himself even though nothing seemed to make sense. They slipped into a dimly lit alley, and he raised his hand to knock on the door. In the near darkness, she could make out his glowing eyes, darting around searching for potential danger. A panel slid open in the door, revealing a singular eye. It looked them over and narrowed on the Demon. 

"What do you want, Beetle breath." 

"'Ey Blinky...long time no see... Poppin' in for a visit! The Lady is lookin' for a specific former breather an' we both know yer ol' lady is the best one for the job..."

"She's not takin' new jobs, s'pecially for someone like you" the panel began to close but stopped as Beetlejuice grew another hand to jab in between the space preventing it from shutting.

"Now wait just one fuckin' minute...that deal that went wrong that wasn't my fuckin' fault," the Demon snarled, pushing the panel all the way open. "We had an agreement, and she fuckin' backed out and got what she got...now you open this Fuckin' door before I rip it right off its hinges and give you fuckin' glaucoma when I beat you with the fragments" he roared. This negotiation was not going well. Lydia intervened, placing her hand on Beetlejuice's arm. She drew her leg back, ready to kick him in the back of the shin to get his attention. It wasn't needed. The moment her hand rested on his sleeve, he snapped his head to her. 

"Please, I'm trying to find my mother...she died six months ago...and I've come to look her." she stepped forward, gazing up at the eye imploringly. It stared down at her and then disappeared. Lydia assumed that he had walked away from the door and was ready to tell Beetlejuice to go at it smashing the door into pieces when it opened. Lydia took in the sight of the Netherworld creature before her with mild surprise. He was shorter then she expected, clearly having used a stool to operate the panel in the door. He stepped back to allow them inside. Beetlejuice's hand immediately moved to the small of her back and jostled her in. She stumbled over her feet but steadied herself as he grabbed her arm. She aimed a retaliatory jab at his midsection in response.

"Keep your hands off of me." 

He grumbled at her, "Learn how to walk then." She scowled at him about to retort that she wouldn't have stumbled if he hadn't shoved her when the reply died in her mouth. They had followed the cyclops into what appeared to be a cramped storage room. Every inch of the wall and free floor space was devoted to books in various states of decay. Lydia's fingers itched to pick through some of the volumes. As if reading her thoughts, Beetlejuice took her small hand into his own, bringing his lips down to her ear. She suppressed the shiver that ran down her spine.

"don't touch anything," he said in a low voice, "they ain't too friendly with people snooping…" 

Lydia nodded her head slowly. She moved her hand but remained close to him. She surmised that the devil she knew was going to be better than the one she did not. The small cyclops led them into a larger room with records stacked to the ceiling like columns. In some places, the ledgers seemed to be holding the roof up rather than being decorative flair.

"What do you want, Betel" a new voice called out to them as they entered the room. It spoke with a harsh nasal tone that grated at her ears. Lydia searched the place for the source and found a massive being seated behind a desk. It had a copious amount of tentacles that slithered about the room ruffling through texts. She broke apart from Beetlejuice's side and approached. 

"Hello, it's me, actually... I'm looking to see if you can tell me anything about my mother...my name is Lydia" she greeted. The figure appeared feminine; it too had only one eye, which fixed Lydia with a yellow stare. 

Beetlejuice stepped up to her again and wrapped an arm around her waist protectively. His expression revealed a flicker of irritation. She was making protecting her exceedingly difficult each step she took to get away from him. She had no idea the sort of danger she was in. He was going to have to put her on a leash if she kept this up. Sure, He wasn't trustworthy by any means, but he could guarantee his endgame for Lydia would be better than most of the inhabitants of the Netherworld, especially if they learned a live heart beat beneath those layers of black lace and gauze. 

  
  


Feeling the hand on her waist again, Lydia glanced at him, brows raised, but he wasn't looking at her. Instead, he focused on the figure before them. Lydia shifted so that his grip on her lessened. Usually, touch from him wouldn't bother her. In the three days they spent together haunting whoever had the misfortune to pass the house, they'd grown accustomed to ample amounts of touch. However, given as he led her almost to cause Barbara's exorcism, she was loathed to tolerate any sort of affectionate gesture. 

"Long time no see Margot," he drawled. The yellow eye shifted to him, pupil narrowing in annoyance. "The Lady is with me. We are looking for a breather named Emily Deetz...maiden name Addams...died about...how long was it Lyds?" he looked down to her. "six months topside?" 

In response to his statement, a tentacle extended to retrieve a file from the far corner spreading it open on the desk. Lydia rocked on her heels, ready to scream if she met with another delay. 

"How did she die?" Margot grunted. Beetlejuice nodded to his breather fiancé to answer. 

"She got sick," Lydia answered. "Cancer...she fought it off at first...We didn't know she was sick for a while, She hid it from us when she found out...but it finally got to the point that she couldn't hide it anymore." She looked up at the ceiling blinking away tears that threatened to fall. Emotions came over her in waves. "we thought that she was getting better for a little bit...the treatment started working, but then it took a sharp turn for the worse...and she just..." her voice faltered, she found that once she started talking about dead Mom, it was impossible to stop. The only thing that hindered her spill was the way her throat began to constrict "sorry...I just miss her so much." 

"Welp...lucky, you're both dead now," Beetlejuice gave her a warning look. He focused on the tears that lingered in the corners of her doe-like eyes. She noted a subtle move of his fingers and in an instant, the tears she had felt evaporated. She blinked, adjusting to the sudden dryness. He looked away from her, acting as if nothing had happened. The moisture was juiced away, eradicating all evidence that she was still living. Dead people didn't have tears or any bodily fluids for that matter, as he had informed her while recounting his adventures with Katie Hepburn. Lydia looked down at her recently purpled hands, recalling the ruse they had enacted.

"Right...lucky that creepy old guy pushed me off the roof." she drawled, grasping at levity to pull her from her grief. The tentacled woman raised a single eyebrow at them before her enlarged pupil went down to the book before her. She flipped through the pages and finally settled on one.

"Emily Addams, sector 13, Employed in the Netherworld distillery." 

Lydia felt Beetlejuice tense next to her. She cast him a curious glance. His jaw clenched, and he looked uncomfortable. She'd have to ask it about later, the expression on his face was a clear indicator that it was not the time. Her thoughts moved instead to her mother. A distillery? It seemed like an odd choice for afterlife employment. Had she gotten a chance to chose? Likely not, Beetlejuice mentioned earlier that afterlife caseworkers assigned jobs. She couldn't see her mother working in that type of setting. 

Emily had always been a free spirit. When she was alive, she went from job to job, never able to hold one down in particular. Freelancing, she called it. It didn't matter what she did really. Charles put every effort into supporting his family, driving him to the brink of having a heart attack to reach an inhuman self-imposed level of productivity. She had worked as a writer, a photographer, sculptor, consultant, even as a drama teacher. However, that profession lasted very briefly due to her unwillingness to follow the restrictions on subject matter enacted by the school district. Lydia assumed whatever afterlife job she had would be within a similar succession. She couldn't imagine her mother working as part of a distillery, at least in the sense of which she understood the word. She'd have to ask Beetlejuice to explain it to her when they made their way there.

"Well, that's all we were needin', so we'll be off then..." a cold hand clamped around Lydia's shoulders as he made to steer her out of the shop. Two tentacles shot out of Margot, barring their exit. The first smaller cyclops flashed a smug grin from his place near the entrance. 

"We haven't discussed payment, Betel," came the creature's grating voice. "I don't just look up information on former breathers for free." 

"Payment? And here I thought you'd be helpin' her out of the goodness of your shriveled black heart." Beetlejuice shook his head in disappointment. He retracted his arm from around Lydia and dug into the pockets of his filthy suit. "Alright, What's the charge, then Margot." he inquired as he riffled through. He began to empty the contents of his pockets, placing some of the objects onto the table and some in Lydia's hand, which he forced up to accept the items "hold this, kid." 

He took out a tattered coin purse, a live rat, a handful of zagnut candy wrappers, a rusted knife, crumpled business cards, a couple of small bottles with brightly colored liquids inside, what appeared to be a dismembered finger and innumerable insects. 

"Wait a minute...is that a?" Lydia exclaimed, reaching for the digit before it was snatched away and stashed back in his pocket. He threw her a crooked smile. 

"She meant nothin' to me, honey, I'm telling you," he held up the bottles next. "What about these?" his amber eyes turned to the creature before them, who regarded them with interest. 

"What mixtures are those?"

"Spe and Amare" 

"Interesting combination, Betel..."

"Did you fuckin' want them or not? I've also got...uh..." he pocketed the bottles and moved to open the coin purse shifting through the change in there. Lydia rocked forward onto her tiptoes in the hopes of getting a glimpse at what passed for currency in the Netherworld. The coins appeared crudely carved and ancient. They bore the visage of a morose looking ruler. Before she got a chance to investigate further, Margot spoke again.

"I'll take the Amare...assuming you can keep your little friend without it." 

Lydia's brow's knit together in bewilderment at her comment. Beetlejuice's reaction amplified her confusion. He tensed up again, the tips of his hair tinging vermillion in hue. 

"Shut that slit you call a mouth Margot...We both know I don't need that to keep my mates satisfied." 

" Beej?" 

" I'll explain later, Lyds." 

The creature flashed him a smug, satisfied look. Instead of speaking further, she extended a tentacle forward beckoning for the bottle of pink liquid. Once the exchange was complete, Beetlejuice moved to steer Lydia out of the room once more. She had at least a dozen questions to ask, but his expression clearly said to wait until they got out. He kept a firm grip on her arm as they left the building and didn't release her until they arrived back at Doomie. 

Upon seeing them, the dragster sprang to life honking appreciatively. Lydia smiled and ran her hand on the hood of the vehicle before entering it. She rubbed at her arm and cast Beetlejuice a dark look.

"is there a reason you keep grabbing my arm like I'm some sort of child? I agreed to the terms. I'm not running away, so knock it off."

Beetlejuice considered for a moment being honest with her. He quickly discarded the thought. He wasn't an ethical creature by nature, why bother to start now? He comforted himself with the knowledge that if he explained to her, she'd likely dismiss the idea anyway. 

"Just like havin' you close Babes," he winked at her as he got behind the wheel of the dragster. "besides, you didn't use to mind." 

"Things are different now," she said, tersely getting in beside him. She leaned forward to turn on the radio in the hopes of blocking out Barbara's scream as it reverberated in her mind. 

"You're just mad you messed up...hey, I get it, I hate when my plans fuck up too...which is why I make sure they never do" with that he tapped his hand on the dashboard. Doomie revved his engine in response and rolled forward from the spot. Beetlejuice glanced at her again. Her expression was sour, though, for Lydia, that wasn't an altogether unique expression. Still, he was getting sick of his fiancee's ongoing performance in the role of the world's sorest loser. 

"' Sides Babs is ok, and we're on our way to see your Mom...you're getting all you wanted, not to mention you'll get to be hitched to the most eligible bachelor since Valentino came over." 

She ignored him and looked out the window. He resigned that he was going to have to do something to snap her out of it. But where could he take her? There were only a few places that didn't pose a risk to her wellbeing. There was also the matter of delaying their timeline. The time, however, could be manipulated. Lydia didn't know or need to know for that matter that time worked differently in the Netherworld. Three days were a relative concept when it came down to it. As eager as he was to have his freedom, he could live with taking his fiancee on an excursion. Wedded bliss would be that much more so if his little bride wasn't being a little bitch. 

...

"Is this it?" Lydia asked as he pulled into a lot. The buildings before them appeared as dark and ominous as the rest that she had seen. Each structure defied logic, had been built on a slant, and loomed over them forebodingly. 

"Nah," he replied, turning the engine off and getting out of his seat. In an instant, he was on her side of the car, offering a hand to her as he opened her door. She looked at the grimy palm apprehensively. 

"I'm not tryin' to drag you outta the car Lyds, just play along," he said in mild irritation. Resigning, she allowed him to help her out of the car. She was sure to give Doomie a reassuring pat on the dashboard to thank him for his assistance. 

There was more activity here then she had been expecting. Unlike the area in which they had met Margot, the road was alive with crowds. Lydia mused that this street appeared similar to the one she had run down when trying to escape from him when she first crossed over. It was more appealing in the so-called daylight. There were shop windows that boasted several wears ranging from ingestible items to clothing to trinkets. Lydia kept her hand in his despite her earlier protests. It was easier this way, plus she liked how people gave them a wide berth. 

It reminded Lydia of the time Dead Mom had pretended to have a terrible cough to speed up the time in the check-out line. At the time, there was a global health epidemic. They'd gone to the store to fetch a few things. Emily had no patience when it came to crowds or running simple errands. So upon seeing the line, she leaned down to whisper instructions into her daughter's ear. She told her to cough as loudly as she could before hoisting the package of toilet paper onto her hip and releasing a barrage of coughs. Her clone followed suit, and soon people began edging away from them. In a matter of minutes, they were back in the car, essentials in tow. She liked being in the company of someone who knew how to manipulate people, so long as she manipulated in tandem. 

"Where are we now?" she asked, following him as they moved down the street. 

"Champs le Gaspillage," he explained, pulling her in closer beneath his arm as an enormous hairy monster moved past them. Lydia didn't press for further information as they continued to walk. He needed to tug on her hand a few times to keep her moving. Her steps slowed nearly to a stop as an enormous red dress plentifully bestrewn with layers of lace and tulle caught her eye in a window display. Black was her signature color, but there was something about the dress that pulled her in. It would be a great dress to die in, or to at least feign a dramatic death. It looked like something right off the stage. She could imagine how the layers would fan out as she crumpled to the floor. Hauntingly beautiful. Her reverie was interrupted as Beetlejuice guided her inside a store. She stepped in as he held the door open for her. 

"Why are we in here, Beetlejuice?" much like Margot's home, this shop too was filled to the brim with items. It seemed like the Netherworld overflowed not only with the recently deceased but also the recently discarded. It reminded her of the Maitland's attic space. A shrine to interests too quickly forgotten. She cast him a suspicious glance, and he met her with a shrug in return as he headed for one of the counters. 

"Wanted to get you something." He remarked, turning his back to her. 

"Why?" she asked skeptically. 

"Cause" came his only reply. He seemed to know exactly where he was going in the shop. Quickly finding what he was looking for and moving to go to the register. She couldn't see what he was holding, but it appeared to be some kind of box. Lydia tapped her foot in irritation. She didn't have the patience for delays. It felt like he was purposefully toying with her. She was so close to finding Dead Mom again. She had confirmation she was here, a location she simply lacked the means to get there. She could run from him again, making her way through asking questions, and navigating herself. Of course, that idea was impacted by the guards she remembered seeing when she first crossed over. She didn't like the idea of running into them on her own. That plan also ran the risk of pissing him off again. As strange as it was, she held to the belief that he would never hurt her. Not intentionally, at least. Still, she didn't want to risk it. Finding dead mom was her goal. Once she did that, she could negotiate with him. She could promise to follow through with the marriage if he brought her back. Or at least he could afford her the opportunity to visit. It would be a reverse Persephone and Demeter agreement. Yes, she could work with that, anything was better than what she had now. 

"surprise," Beetlejuice approached her again, shoving a wrapped box into her hands. She raised an eyebrow at him as she accepted it. 

"What is this for…" she asked skeptically. 

"I told you I wanted to get you something...Consider it a souvenir of your one and an only trip here."

"won't I come here when I die?"

"Just open the fucking package Lydia" he reached and started to pull at the ribbon in his excitement. She tugged it back from him stubbornly and began to unwrap it. He stepped back, watching her with a smug grin on his face. She lifted the lid off the box and peered inside. 

" Woah," she gasped, reaching inside and pulling out an antique camera. Holding it tenderly, she slipped the strap over her head and lifted it for closer inspection. 

" It's got a special kind of film found only in the Netherworld. You'll be able to take moving pictures," Beetlejuice explained." and this knob here lets you adjust for your subject matter...if they are breathing or spectral" he brought his arm over her shoulder, moving to stand behind her as he showed her how to work the device." So You'll be able to use it when we go back." 

Lydia turned quickly and wrapped her arms around his neck in a hug. She didn't know what words to say to express her gratitude. The kind gesture gave her whiplash, though if she gave herself time to think about it, he had never been outright cruel to her. 

" Let me test it!!" she stepped back from him giddy with excitement. She held the camera up and snapped a few pictures of him, adjusting each of the knobs to test them out. He obliged, chuckling as he did various poses, the last of which involved decapitating himself and causing his head to spin over his neck. To her surprise, the camera spewed out prints in a matter of seconds. They fluttered to the ground, and Lydia dove to retrieve them. It was just as he promised, rather than static images, the photos moved. She looked from the pictures to the real thing itself grinning. 

"I love it, Beej! This is so cool!" she flipped through the photos, allowing the camera to rest against her chest. In one, he as winking at her, another he flipped off the camera, the third his striped tongue unraveled from his lips like a party horn. She stopped flipping through as an image in the background caught her attention. There was an odd-looking poster who's subject looked familiar. Quickly she looked up to find its counterpart on the wall behind him. It was her face, printed on what appeared to be the Netherworld equivalent to a wanted poster. 

"Uh, Beej?" she raised a finger to point at it. He followed her gesture to the wall behind him. His already pale face blanched. 

"Fuck" 

  
  
  



	6. Growing Guestlist

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: some of the content in this chapter may be triggering, tags have been updated but its around miscarriages and general loss. I had a lot of fun lurking in the brains of our favorite characters this round.

Barbara hated the mess. She strove to keep a tidy home, even when she lived by herself. Everything had a place, and that place was neat and orderly so that everything could be found and retrieved efficiently. And yet, despite all the exhausting efforts she'd made to have a clean home mess accumulated around her. The handbook for the recently deceased lay open, its weathered pages dog-eared and marked with slips of paper shoved in where Adam had made meticulous notes. There were books on the afterlife, spiritual in variety contributed by Delia. Online articles retrieved from scholarly journals ranging to Reddit detailed the lengths Charles had gone to find something, anything to inform their plight. 

There was nothing for it. The case was unprecedented. Charles was at his wit's end, pushed to the brink of his belief system. He never believed in anything otherworldly, despite Emily's best efforts. Charles was a practical businessman. He accepted only what he could touch and measure. Now he wished for every nonsensical science fiction trope he'd ever dismissed was true. More than anything he wished for a time machine, he wished he could go back in time. Go back in time to the very moment Lydia burst into his room, screaming that ghosts were chasing her. He should have moved her back right then. He should never have brought them to this house, even if the spirits in question...Adam and Barbara were exceedingly kind to them. He could see the same strains of anxiety and concern that cut into his soul depicted on their faces. At least Lydia got to spend time with them, before she...no. He wasn't going down that road again. He refused to accept that his daughter was gone. He couldn't go through that pain again, not so soon after losing her. Charles abruptly stood from the table, upsetting the pile of books next to him. He moved to the liquor cabinet, retrieving the bottle of scotch and making his way to the study. 

Barbara noted the movement, her attention caught by the books that toppled off the table due to Charles' sudden departure. She righted them before following after him. Delia and Adam didn't notice. They were too busy pouring over their texts, trying to decode the superfluous wording Otho chose to use in his volumes. 

She ascended the stairs, finding Charles in his study seated behind his desk with his head cradled in his hands. 

Barbara hesitated in the doorway. Before the Deetz's had moved in, the room at the top of the stairs was supposed to be a nursery. It had been a nursery before the miscarriage. Her hands moved to her stomach. If her calculations were correct at this point, she would have been nine months along. The dress she wore should have been bursting at the seams as she prepared to bring new life into the world. And yet it wasn't. That blissful dream shattered into a million tiny pieces the same evening she'd woken up with a terrible pain in her stomach. She could still smell the blood and feel her insides contorting in agony as all evidence of the hope she had left her. 

Barbara hadn't stepped foot in the room since. The door remained closed. The room had been filled with unopened packages of diapers, onesies never worn, toys never played with. Before the loss, Barbara spent all of her time in the room, unfolding and refolding tiny clothes. She'd kneel on the ground and hold the soft knitted blanket to her breast, imagining what it would be like to cradle her newborn in it. She'd arrange diapers into neat piles imagining two am changes in the dark. The night after the loss, everything changed. She and Adam were devastated. The parallel grief tied them closer as a couple, making them more dependent on each other. They lost their shred of hope, their future, and in the wake of such clung to each other with desperation. 

Weeks turned to months, and the room remained untouched. It was a shrine to all they had lost. Once or twice, she and Adam had tried to come into the nursery to address the loss they endured. To see about putting away some things, donating others. Barbara was never able to make it over the threshold. To do so would be to address the fact that the baby was gone. To do so would address the question they both had been avoiding, should they try again. The pain that surged felt as fresh as the day it occurred no matter the amount of time that passed from the incident. Barbara hadn't been able to think about trying a second time, and then the option was gone. She and Adam were dead. There was no ten-year plan anymore. There would be no children for them to raise, except...Lydia. The tiny seventeen-year-old appeared in their afterlives quite suddenly. Barbara recalled the moment she met her, drowning in gauzy black fabric to mask the pain of losing her mother. It was the thought of Lydia that allowed her to cross into the room.

...

Charles' study was one of his favorite rooms in the house. It stood as a monument to testosterone: rich leather, dark fabrics, substantial volumes on the bookcases. The wall was adorned with newspaper clippings, diplomae, and awards that spoke to the accomplishment of the inhabitant. It didn't matter how much Charles accomplished, however. He had lost it all. That which he still had paled in comparison to what he longed for beyond the veil of death. Emily and now Lydia. He couldn't see a scenario in which they'd be able to bring her back. The only hope he possibly had lain in the hands of the demon who'd chased after her, the same beast who showed no qualms about using whatever means it took to get his way. If Lydia did come back, he had little faith that she'd be in the same condition as she was when she left. He shuddered at the thought, pouring another heaving glass of the amber liquid. He tipped it back over his lips. The liquor burned his throat as it went down. He became aware of a chill in the room, his dark eyes flicked upwards and noted the presence of the blonde woman from downstairs. 

"Do you drink?" He inquired of the ghost in the doorway. He wanted to ask can you drink, but it felt too rude. The misery that weighed on his soul made him want to lash out at every living being he came across, save for her. He couldn't bring himself to be disrespectful to the kind-looking woman. He didn't wait to hear her answer. Instead, he went about pouring a second glass. If she couldn't drink it, he'd throw it back as well. She crossed the room to him slowly. Each step she took appeared to cause her physical pain. Charles couldn't understand why, but he also knew next to nothing about the supernatural as this entire experience had taught him. Her delicate hands lifted the glass and brought it to her lips. 

"I don't typically drink anything stronger than wine," she replied, smelling the scotch. Her nose wrinkled as the robust smoky scent hit her. Undeterred Barbara sipped from it, only wincing slightly. Neither knew what to say to the other. They sat together in silence, slowly draining the liquid in their glasses. 

"This is all my fault," she suddenly burst out. Charles looked up to her, were she able to make tears her eyes would have brimmed with them. Her voice quivered as she shook her head "If we had helped her with the book, or been better she would never have gone looking-" 

"No, this is my fault," Charles interrupted. "If I listened to her, I should have listened to her. I shouldn't have left her...Who knows what that thing has done with her, I left them alone for three days. I abandoned her...I'm a complete failure of a father...I...she's lost to me forever." He broke off as icy arms wrapped around him. Barbara had moved; she was standing behind him and holding him close. He tensed at the embrace but still found comfort within it. 

"You couldn't have known," she urged "none of us could have known..." she sniffled "for what it is worth, nothing happened to her when you left. Beetlejuice did more harm with her then to her," Charles looked at Barbara in confusion. 

"What do you mean?" he asked. He turned his body to face her, causing her to pull her arms back and rest them on the back of his chair.

"They spent the time terrorizing anyone who came here, delivery drivers, neighbors...even this poor little girl scout...We heard so many screams...but none of them were Lydia's." Charles released a laugh that entwined with a choked sob. 

"Just like Emily..." he breathed. It was just like Emily's daughter to form a partnership with a demon that would enact the most terrifying string of paranormal experiences ever to hit Winter river. All at once, a sound came from the floor beneath them. Barbara withdrew her arms as Charles stood up. Adam and Delia were speaking to someone. There was a third voice neither adult recognized. Moving faster than either thought possible, they rushed back downstairs, hoping against hope that somehow the new arrival brought with them news. 

...

"Fuck." 

Beetlejuice tore the poster from the wall to take a closer look. There was no denying that it was a picture of Lydia. He looked from the image to the girl standing in front of him. He was going to have to rethink some things. It didn't matter that her skin had been turned purple; the resemblance was clear. 

"C'mon kid," he urged, stepping over to take her arm. His grip was firm yet gentle. Lydia obliged with being led out of the store. Seeing her face on the poster was unnerving. It shifted her perspective of those on the street. She hadn't gotten a chance to look at the sheet to see what they inscribed, but it begged the question. Would she be recognized? Could she count on the anonymity purchased for her by the changing of her appearance? It seemed unlikely based on the change in Beetlejuice's demeanor. He wove them through the crowds back to the car with his jaw clenched. He cast suspicious looks at whomever they past keeping Lydia close to his side. 

Now that they were outside, it became evident that the posters were everywhere. Someone took the opportunity to plaster them on every available surface. Lydia looked around at her own face staring at her from different directions. She picked words from each as they passed, curious if it was just a female who happened to look like her. There was no denying it. It was her face, her name, and description. Her identified crime was being a breather among the dead, trespassing in the afterlife. Her stomach churned as her mind called up the idle threats Beetlejuice had made to her when they first struck their prenuptial agreement. 

She assumed at the time that he was just full of it. She assumed that he was exaggerating the point to illustrate his plan was the more sensible option. She couldn't blame him. She needed some convincing to trust him after spending all of her energy getting away from him. Seeing evidence that his warnings were not idle threats, rather genuine raised the hair on the back of her neck.

"Beetlejuice?" She asked, keeping pace with him. The camera he'd just given her bounced against her chest. "What does all of this mean?"

"It means we need to get you out of sight and speed up the plan to see your old lady," he said in a low voice." Juno's working faster than I expected," he growled, thinking of the bitter old caseworker. She had to be behind the posters. Leave it to Juno to initiate a chase. The signs practically wreaked of the acrid smoke that leaked from the gash in her neck. She couldn't know he was involved, yet if she did discover that things would certainly take a turn for the worse. 

"Who's Juno?" Lydia's dark eyes turned up to him in confusion. She recalled the pink-haired receptionist mentioning the same name. 

"A massive pain in my ass," Beetlejuice grumbled. He glanced at her. The look on her face indicated that this was not enough of a description. "She's an old acquaintance of mine...we didn't get on well."

"Why am I not surprised." Lydia drawled, raising an eyebrow at him. It quickly became apparent that she was one of the few if the only beings that got along with him. 

"Hey!" he protested. "S'not my fault...She was too controllin'. We used to work together, back before I went into the freelance bioexorcism game." he shifted them to the right side of the sidewalk to make way for a passing group. Lydia noted how his reptilian eyes scanned them suspiciously. "Juno is very by the book... doesn't like creative solutions. So I left due to artistic differences." 

"Artistic differences that resulted in you being invisible in the living world?" He met her inquiry with a tap of his finger on her nose. 

"Perceptive little breather aren't you" he smirked down at her. 

"I like to consider myself as such, so yes," she wrinkled her nose, looking up at him. Before he could respond, his attention shifted once more to an approaching figure. Lydia moved her head to follow his gaze, but he was too quick for her. His grip on her shoulder tightened, and he pulled her into an alley. He pressed her against the wall, putting his hands on either side of her head. 

"Beej..." she protested, moving to wiggle out of his grip. He shushed her, harshly keeping his hold. The stone was rough against her back. He wasn't looking at her. His focus was on the street they'd just stepped off of. Lydia noted large shadows were passing, wondering what he saw that caused such a retreat. Lydia shifted again, but there was nowhere else to go. Being this close to him brought up complicated reactions in her body.

On the one hand, she didn't like feeling trapped; she was apprehensive, questioning what his intentions might be. His hands didn't move from where they pressed against either side of her head, so they didn't appear to be too nefarious. Her body flushed against his chest; his scent filled her nose. It was the sickly sweet smell of decay, like fallen leaves decomposing in a puddle. His scent reminded her of November afternoons spent walking through cemeteries. Moments after it just rained where a slight brush of wind made her feel utterly alone and yet contained in the silence. The smell reminded her of loneliness, of power, of death but also comfort. No one had been able to understand the magnitude of her grief, her moments of isolation in the graveyard surrounded by markings of those that passed on gave her the sense that somewhere, someone understood her even if that entity was beyond the veil. 

Lydia pushed the thoughts from her mind, it wasn't just his scent that overpowered her. She couldn't identify the other surge of emotions that passed through her body in reaction to being pressed against the wall. She ought to feel indignant, annoyed, apprehensive. Alternatively, she felt a tightening in her stomach, her heartbeat quickened, a sort of tugging sensation she couldn't label. She blamed it on the sudden movement, a culmination of the fractured ray of emotions she'd been feeling since running into the Netherworld. By her count, she hadn't slept in over 24 hours. Her argument with the Mainlands when they'd refused to open the handbook for her seemed like an eternity ago. Coupled with the chase, anticipation around seeing her mother again and feelings derived from being hunted by unknown forces, she couldn't trust her body to produce a reasonable reaction. 

"Beej...what are you-" she whispered, she needed an answer, a reprieve from her whirling thoughts. He didn't shush her again. Instead, he lowered his head to hers so he could whisper in his ear. His head was still turned facing the entrance to the alleyway. 

"Suits," he growled in her ear. She felt the tugging feeling again as the scruff of his mossy beard brushed against her cheek. "They're doin' patrols...musta sensed you were here...or someone tipped 'em off," he muttered darkly. He'd changed her outward appearance, but everything about Lydia spoke of life. A change to her skin's hue hadn't changed the fact that she didn't belong here, and that dissonance had an apparent effect on the space around her.

"Can't you juice us out of here" she inquired, her voice breathy.

"M'not supposed to be here Babes, I can get in and fly under the radar but don't need them connectin' my presence with your disappearance...unfortunately, they are very familiar with my spectral signature," he glanced down at her. "The last thing we need is for them to connect you to me." He smirked, resisting the urge to add the 'at least till after the ceremony.' 

Footsteps approached, there was an unfamiliar gruff voice at the neck of the alley flashing a light onto them. Lydia instinctually turned her head to look but was met by Beetlejuice's hand on her chin. He crushed his lips against hers, swallowing any exclamations of surprise she tried to make. She looked at him with a panicked expression, his eyes were closed, or at least they appeared to be. Lydia searched for any distraction other than the most prevalent thought at the forefront of her mind. He was a good kisser. An excellent kisser. Such a good kisser that Lydia was sorely tempted to fuck it all and kiss him back. She hadn't kissed many people in her life, other than a few adolescent escapades back in New York. Those memories paled in comparison to him. Shit, he wasn't lying when he made all those comments, what if the rest of his claims were true?

Disturbed by her own train of thought, she wrestled against him. She was too swept up in the moment, she couldn't let herself start thinking this way about him. In response to her wriggling, Beetlejuice grabbed one of her hands and pinned it over her head, only then did his eyes peek open to give her a warning look. Reptilian golden eyes narrowed at her. There was an urgency in his gaze, and She understood the message clearly. He broke apart and turned to address the figures, keeping Lydia's arm pinned against the wall, so the approacher's view of her face was obstructed. 

"what the fuck do you want? I ain't sharin" Beetlejuice growled at the approacher, he made a show of licking his lips as if to emphasize his annoyance at being interrupted. Lydia couldn't see who he was talking to but noted it was a stall figure, dressed in an austere suit she recognized as being similar to the one she had seen on the guards she'd run from before. From what she could tell, there were two of them, though only one spoke.

"We're under orders to find a Breather that's running around here," one of the guards answered. Lydia observed they appeared to be intimidated by Beetlejuice. They kept a good distance from them as if not wanting to get in arm's length of the demon. 

"Ok..." Beetlejuice drawled in an irritated tone, he pressed closer to Lydia again, obscuring her with his larger form. He needed to get her out of here, the longer they stood there, the higher the risk rose that they'd sense her living energy. He was shocked they hadn't picked up on it already. He could feel her heart racing through the layers of fabric with his chest flushed against hers. "Well, I don't give a fuck about that...but now that you two assholes have ruined the mood, I'm going to have to go rearrange her guts elsewhere...not into bein' watched." 

With that, he wrapped his hands around Lydia's thighs, scooping her legs up around him. A squeal of surprise escaped her lips, but he carried on. Pushing past the guards holding her like he intended to fuck her against the first solid object he encountered. Lydia peered over his shoulder as they moved farther away, noting that the guards looked confused but carried on down the alley further. Luckily Doomie wasn't far away. He set her down on the ground and opened the door for her. Hastily juicing himself to the other side once she was in. He tapped the dashboard, causing the dragster to awaken again, as soon as the engine revved he pulled out of the spot racing away. He conjured himself a cigarette and took a long drag from it, his eyes turned forward. 

"That was too fuckin' close."

...

Ash pooled in the tray before her as she tapped her cigarette on the rim. Smoking was an excellent vice, one of her favorites that was encouraged in her sector of hell. Of course, she'd sampled from the other varieties if deadly sins offered, taking hedonistic pleasure in their exploration. Her afterlife, if one could call it, was a miserable existence. Still, she prided herself on the lucrative gains she'd made from it despite serving an eternal sentence for her previous indiscretions.

In the grand scheme of things, She'd been given a kinder sentence then she could have expected, purchased for her out of the lofty status of her suitor. She'd been seduced, misguided, led astray! How could she have known the trouble she was getting herself into, she was just a simple mortal...she didn't realize there were afterlife laws against such a union...oops?

That had been her claim, her winning argument that left her here, overseeing the caseworkers and running what sufficed for the afterlife justice system. Of course, she'd worked out her side business of harvesting emotions from the ever-growing number of mortals seeking premature connection with the afterlife. Yes, Hypatia was very pleased with herself and how things worked out. She'd checked in to the mess Juno called an office to find the air-headed Argentinian frantically trying to keep things running. Juno had gone topside to deal with the issue, excellent. She flicked her cigarette again, missing the tray this time and leaving ash on one of the files. Since she was down here, she might as well check in on her other prospects. A wave of her manicured fingers brought her outside her beloved edifice. Yes, a turn about the Distillery would be an excellent way to kill some time before connecting fumigated old hag when she returned from the land of the living. 

She savored the expression of fear that flickered in the eyes of the doorman as she approached. Standing up at attention so quickly that his femur disconnected from his hip. He hastily reattached it and stumbled over to the door opening it for her with a low bow. 

"Vicereine S-Shoggoth...we weren't expecting to see you today."

  
  
  



	7. Mother of the Bride

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took me a bit, Bit of world-building I've been kicking around in my brain. Few housekeeping notes:
> 
> 1) Full disclosure I've never been to a seance, I did some research for this chapter that informed the depiction but if I've gotten some stuff wrong my apologies. Hope you all enjoy!
> 
> 2)Alecto's name has been changed to Hypatia. My work is heavily influenced by Lady Strange and Unusual's ISS, with her permission I'm using the same name she assigned to BJ's mom bc I don't agree with the musical's presentation of Mommy Juno.
> 
> don't know what fic I'm talking about? Here, read this then come back to this : https://archiveofourown.org/works/22178920/chapters/52948138

The room was dark, only a flicker of candles illuminated the white table cloth and hands clasped together as the attendees sat. They were focused, calling, yearning out to the spirits beyond the veil to speak to them. To answer their questions and prove life after death. 

This batch of mortals consisted of a collection of teenagers. They were at various stages in their exploration of the occult. One feeling more competent than the rest asserted herself as the leader. She’d dyed her hair, pierced her own nose, and wore pentagrams proudly to assert herself as head witch in charge. This wasn’t the one she would go after. Arrogance was abundant in the afterlife. There was no market for self-satisfaction. But the others at the table, the naive, inexperienced beginners, desperate to prove themselves as macabre degenerates different from their parents. That was who she’d harvest. 

She began with the youngest in the group. She was the most likely to startle and break the connection if any of the other breathers had an adverse reaction. Thirteen, the same age her sweet little Lydia was when she got sick. It was impossible to tell how long ago that was. How long it had been since she died? The girls at the table closed their eyes, asking the spirits to join them. 

The experienced one, self-proclaimed medium, spoke first. She recognized the presence in the room, urged for only friendly souls to join. She proclaimed the veil was lifted and encouraged the others at the table to open their eyes. The smallest one had dark brown eyes, full of apprehension and curiosity. It became clear that the little one was the catalyst for the seance. She’d lost someone, recently...a mother? No, a sister, an older sister. Suicide. Ah, well, there was no chance she’d be attending then. More than likely, the girl’s relative was still sitting in the waiting room. Once processed through, she’d receive her sentence of civic service in the afterlife. Then she’d regret her decision even more than she likely did sitting against the plastic seats in the waiting room. A pause, a shake of the head, there was no time for sympathy. She had a job to do. 

Her presence was made known by a flickering of candles. Shifting the wind chimes in the room as a signal, she was here. There were no detectors to deal with, no instruments to measure frequencies—another advantage of selecting a young group. Their efforts went to the ambiance rather than investment in gadgets. Fancy candles, draped fabric, heady incense, salt all littered around the room as if setting a scene for a photoshoot.

The medium encouraged the girls to put their hands on the planchette. They followed her command, a rainbow of chipped nail polishes connected over the small piece of wood. The little one had blue nails with raw red cuticles. She was nervous, that wouldn’t do. There was no market for nervousness. A bit of manipulation, a pull of the planchette over letters, and that emotion could shift. That was the job. 

The questions lifted into the air, five sets of eyes glued to the board as an unknown force moved the planchette. 

Could she spell her name...no answer? 

Have you communicated with anyone here before tonight...yes. 

Was she related to anyone at the table?...yes.

Was her name Abigail?

A flash to the youngest girl, her eyes were wide, hopeful, apprehensive. That must have been her name. A shift of force, the planchette moved to confirm the name. There it was, a burst of hope. 

She struck quickly, moving around the room and standing behind the girl. A vial drawn, she connected her spectral force to her. The attachment executed. Now came the extrusion.

Each question raised met with a farce. A manufactured answer manipulated to elicit a response, Relief, Solace, Joy, Longing, Envy, Elation. She’d been right to pick the youngest girl. She was practically bursting with profitable emotion. It poured out of her as the spirit feigned her response. 

Abigail was at peace, she was sorry, she missed her family, but she was in a better place, she loved her sister. Assurances poured through the planchette bringing a final rush of relief over the 13-year-old. There were times when breathers got rude once the veil lifted. She relished having the chance to terrorize them, drawing out darker emotions like fear, despair, and if they were spectrophiliacs lust. This group wasn’t like that. They were young girls hoping to connect with those who left them. 

It wouldn’t do to empty them. She withdrew, holding up the vials in her hand. Their contents swirled, glowing in their concentrated essence. One sip of it in this potent state, and it could send a soul into shock splintering them into fragments in the lost soul’s room. The medium thanked her for attending, calling out to another spirit to join. They were looking for Marilyn again. Marilyn never joined, when would breathers learn?

One last touch, a brush against the young girl’s shoulder, an affectionate squeeze meant to convey love before she passed. There was no motive behind this gesture. The breather harvested, The job was done. The spirit enacted the gesture hoping to convey sentiment from the beyond. It offered a small comfort as if by feigning love to this child, the affection could somehow transport though space to another mournful adolescent sitting in new york robed in black fabrics wrestling with her loss. 

The candles extinguished, the veil replaced. Emily opened her eyes and adjusted to get her bearings. She was back at her desk, vials in hand, her hand still raised from where it trailed along the girl’s shoulder. There was no time for sentiment now. 

Resuming the mundane task she called a job, she moved to deposit the vials. They needed to be distilled, watered down so that they were palatable. Then they would be distributed into the Netherworld for consumption. 

Emily made her way down the hallway, looking down at the floor. The light was so bright it hurt her eyes. Like everything in the distillery, it was a cruel imitation of its counterpart in the living world. Not that she could think of one person who missed fluorescent lights. She could hear others at work draining breathers in their respective cubicles. Releasing a weary sigh, she placed the vials in their sections. 

Relief, Solace, Joy, Longing, Envy, Elation

The vials turned over, the syrupy substance inside sliding into the tubes created to mix them. Emily watched Solace drip. It was lilac in color, lightening to a lavender hue as it became less concentrated. She had yet to sample any of the varieties her work disseminated. This emotion, however, proved tempting. 

Solace, comfort in knowing her family was okay, somehow moving on without her. Reassurance that Charles heeded her warning to hold on and live through. She knew him well. He was a fixer. He saught ways to solve problems before they even manifested. If it hadn’t been for that trait, their marriage likely would have dissolved faster than it began. As it stood, he eliminated obstacles, enacted interventions, and kept the family together. All for Lydia, their Lydia. 

A sharp pain erupted in her chest, precisely in the place where her heart had been. She placed a hand over it. It was a common occurrence anytime thoughts came to mind that evoked a powerful emotion she once felt. Perhaps it was worth partaking in the substances she helped to create. They were addictive in nature, but if they allowed her to numb the hollow feeling of despair that arose each time she thought of her daughter, perhaps it was worth it. She twisted the tap and refilled the vial she’d just emptied with the subdued brew. 

“You! Deepz...or whatever your name is” 

Emily looked to the voice, her entire corpse tensed, seeing the daunting figure walking towards her. Her fingers tightened around the vial, moving it behind her back. “Deetz,” she amended. 

“Don’t correct me,” Hypatia met her with a casual wave of the hand. She withdrew her cigarette and tapped the ash onto the floor. “Sampling, are we?” The Demon’s bright green eyes focused on her. 

“No, I’m testing for consistency.”

“Oh...sure, sure you are,” a smile spread across her lips, revealing the tips of sharpened teeth. She held her hand up and snapped, so the vial vanished from Emily’s hand and appeared in her claws. She lifted it to her nose and inhaled. 

“Solace?” she dragged the last syllable aiding a snake-like rattle to the word. Her thin brow raised, studying the being before her curiously. “Interesting choice, most pick something spicier when I catch them siphoning from my profits.”

“I’m not siphoning,” Emily interjected, her tone curt “Like I said, I was testing for consistency.” 

“Now now, Dots, don’t lie to me. I understand the need...after all, this is my business.... Its alright have a taste,” Hypatia cooed. Her hand moved her hand again so that Emily went rigid. Another wave of fingers and her lips parted. Hypatia lifted the vial and dripped some of the liquid into her mouth. Though the administration was unwilling, Emily couldn’t help but give a contented sigh as the feeling crept through her. 

Relief and Comfort flooded her. Assurance that those she loved were alright ran through her veins like her blood once had. Images of Lydia came to mind, smiling, hugging her father, walking across the stage proudly holding a diploma. Visions of Charles moving on, finally finding someone who got him. Someone who he didn’t have to work hard to get along with, who he didn’t have to fix. The two people she left behind, content and together. As quickly as the feeling came to her, it vanished. She opened her eyes to be met with Hypatia studying her. A cruel smile was on her lips.

“Just a taste, don’t need you getting carried away...No one had been able to turn a profit quite as you have in your time down here” she released her hold topping off the vial. “How much have you been able to harvest today?” 

Free to move her limbs once more, Emily stepped back, licking her lips to try and savor what little was left there. This reaction is why she never tried it before. It created a craving. The sensation had been blissful, but without it, she felt empty. Dark thoughts crept in where the light had been.

“Of course,” she answered, “I’ve gone through 5 breathers, our stores of excitement, wonder, and hope are doing well.” 

“Yes we are running a little low on elation so I’ll need you to harvest more of that”

“Already? We JUST restocked-”

“Supply and Demand Deetz, Supply and Demand” 

…

Lydia looked out the passenger side window as they sped away. Her fingers brushed against her lips, where Beetlejuice had kissed her moments before. She tried forcing herself to dismiss the gesture. It was the result of needing to get them out of a situation, to get away from the beings looking for her. He also happened to be a lecherous creature who’d be content to grope a light post. What bothered her the most was her reaction to the kiss.

She  _ liked _ it. She liked it a lot. It confused her endlessly. Sure, being strange and unusual, that was her tagline. She was content with the moniker of freak, relished being apart from the vanilla individuals she encountered in her yuppie upbringing. Death had been an obsession of hers growing up, nursed by her mother’s encouragement and example. Was this the result of maternal macrame influence? Was she into this particular branch of Necrophilia...Spectrophilia...she couldn’t even determine the correct prefix to describe what she was wrestling with recognizing. Her gaze shifted from the window over to the being driving the car. 

He wasn’t bad looking. If you looked past the rotting skin, mold, general filth of his suit, he was reasonably attractive. He was a good kisser. He certainly had that. Lydia presumed that it was likely a byproduct of all of his proclaimed sexual adventures he’d announced having in his 600 year plus existence. - _ ’What the hell am I thinking...this is Beetlejuice’ _ \- She shook her head as if the gesture could scramble her thoughts, causing them to leave through her ears. She had to be confused. She was exhausted. It felt like an eternity since she’d slept. Pressing her head back against the seat, her eyes fluttered shut. 

“You’re quieter then I thought you’d be Lyds” Her eyes remained closed, but she hummed in response, sleep threatening to take her. His gravelly voice beckoned her attention “Fully expected to get an earful about kissing ya” 

Beetlejuice glanced at his breather in the seat next to him. Was she trying to sleep? Around him? Granted, she’d done it before, the second night after she summoned him. The kid could barely stand after a whole day of scaring. True, there was the fact that she’d not slept in two days informed to the decision. End of the day, she fell asleep on the striped couch of the living room. He’d come bounding into the room, ready to announce his latest idea to terrorize the neighborhood only to find her curled up like a gothic cat. 

  
  


His first full day of being visible, he spent testing every spectral power he had to determine if those who cursed his name put any limitations on his power. His elation came from finding out that he could still clone himself. It wasn’t just one Beetlejuice who came into the room, shouting for Lydia’s attention. It was six of them, to be exact. Six Beetlejuice’s arrived in the living room to find her fast asleep. He recalled how his clones looked to him expectantly, questioning what his next move would be. 

A pretty girl sprawled out before him, unaware of her predicament. Completely at his mercy. It wasn’t like he hadn’t thought of her that way. He waved his hand, banishing his clones so he could weigh his options. Standing over her, he watched as her chest rose and fell with each breath. Her lips were just parted, soft, and pink, just begging for him to touch. His glowing eyes trailed down her body, shifting his fingers just over the hem of her dress so that it rose and expose more of her thigh. Her alabaster skin called to him beneath the patterned fishnets. He imagined how easy they’d be to shred, the thin nylon tearing with one swipe of his claws. He imagined her eyes flying open in shock to find her clothes gone with the Demon she summoned crawling over her. Completely at his mercy.

Yet something that night stilled him. He didn’t understand it. It was unlike any reaction he ever had in his very long afterlife. He couldn’t get himself to touch her. Lydia wasn’t like anything he’d encountered. She was special. It wasn’t just that she saw him when he was invisible; it was more than that. She understood him, wasn’t afraid of him and wanted him around. Everything he craved during his existence. He didn’t want to screw that up. 

Obviously, he’d bring her pleasure. He was confident in his ability to make her scream, but what would it cost him? Lydia was stubborn; she craved control and had a proclivity for resentment. Would a good fuck be enough to push past the violation of trust? Probably not, but did that matter? She was just a disposable breather wasn’t she? 

Confused by his hesitation, he shook his head. The decision was made, scooping her tiny form into his arms. He apparated them both up to her room. A wave of his fingers and the covers withdrew ready for her as he lay her down in the bed. He watched as she slept on for a bit, popping downstairs when she began to stir hours later. He dismissed her inquiry the next day and immediately launched into an animated discussion of his plans for them that day. 

Back in the dragster, He leaned over and poked her shoulder as he drove. As Doomie was a sentient being, there was no real need to steer, especially when he knew where he was going. 

“Lyds,” he called to her again, fully looking at her. She cracked her eyes open to look at him, jolting up when she noticed his hands off the steering wheel.

“BEETLEJUICE WHAT THE HELL!!?” She screeched, launching herself over him so she could grab the wheel. He looked down at her, amused as she was leaning into his lap. 

“Relax Lyds, Doomie can drive himself,” he said casually leaning back in his seat, he let one hand casually rest on her hip. 

“He can?” She looked back at him, confused before sitting back in the passenger seat. Reluctantly he relocated his hand back to rest on the back of his seat. To prove his statement, he kept his hands off the wheel. The dragster moved along the Netherworld highway unencumbered, shifting when he needed to avoid obstacles. Lydia didn’t quite understand why he didn’t just juice them there, but, at the same time, she enjoyed the opportunity to see more of the Netherworld. 

“Sure he can, though sometimes I like to make sure he knows who’s really in charge,” punctuating his statement, he grabbed the wheel, causing Doomie to swerve into oncoming traffic on the other side of the road. 

“Beej, no!” Lydia launched forward for the wheel again, her tiny hands grabbed his arm and pulled. He laughed and obliged her, so they were out of harm’s way. Not that they were in the first place. Beetlejuice needed Lydia alive for the marriage ceremony to work. That and he didn’t like thinking of a world in which the morbid beauty before him was deceased. The swerve of the car yielded the response he hoped for, a quickened mortal heartbeat, touch of his arms, her body closer to his. 

“Alright, Alright Babes...relax I’m not gonna let anything happen to you” He slung his arm back over her seat and rested his other hand on the wheel. Lydia sat back in her seat. He kept his eyes forward apprehensive of any sort of reaction his comment may have elicited. He usually liked getting reactions from his remarks, but after the admission left his lips, it felt too honest, too transparent. “Anyway, There’s the distillery, you’ll be seein’ your ol’ lady soon, ready?” 

Was she ready? Lydia considered the question. There was a part of her that was afraid to see her mother in the Netherworld. She wondered what she might look like, or worse how she would react to seeing Lydia down there. Would she be happy to see her? Or angry that she’d followed her down and seemingly thrown her life away? What would she think of Beetlejuice? Or the fact that she was engaged to a demon at the age of 17. Okay, that fact she’d probably would find more palatable than the fact she was practically throwing her life away. Emily romanticized death but never really encouraged one seeking it out prematurely. She’d always been entranced with the in-between, the waiting, the communication between worlds. The fact that her daughter was engaged to an undead creature would probably impress her more than anything. Dead Mom was weird like that. 

  
  
  


With the screech of tired changing their tracks, Doomie sharply turned directions heading down a sharp ramp towards a collection of buildings. Everything in the Netherworld seemed to be a cracked up version of what was in her own realm. They had roads and highways like her world did, rather than be designed for safety they were like roller coaster tracks. Lydia’s stomach swooped as the ground seemed to drop beneath them, as always Beetlejuice was unaffected. The dragster plummeted at a rapid speed, feeling like they were going to crash at the bottom. Sick as she was Lydia let out a scream of mirth. It was better than the drop on the tower of terror. 

“Fuck Babes…” Beetlejuice’s hands squeezed the wheel as the sound hit his ears, the sound running straight through his body. His voice escaped in a hiss, Doomie protested as his claws threatened to tear off the steering wheel. The sound went unnoticed due to the whoop of laughter escaping from Lydia’s lips as they leveled out smoothly. 

Doomie kept traction on the course unaffected by something so mortal as gravity. Lydia’s eyes shone bright with excitement, color hinted beneath her cheeks as her heart raced within her chest. She looked alive, despite the violet hue to her skin. An essential part of the con was keeping the appearance that she looked dead. Luckily she rested back against the seat, her expression turning somber once more as they neared the outside of the distillery. Signage they passed gave it away, Beetlejuice watched as comprehension dawned on Lydia’s face. 

“We’re really here,” she breathed. 

…

“So you’re from the Netherworld...where Lydia is now...and she’s still alive” Adam repeated back the information looking at Juno’s face. The caseworker wore a stern expression, her cigarette held between her fingers as she regarded the newly dead before her. 

“Yes, that is what I’ve just said will you pay attention” she snapped curtly “That girl has flouted the laws of the afterlife, There are restrictions against crossing over early, but the bigger problem is that damn Demon that’s with her” she put the cigarette to her lips, smoke curled from the gash in her neck. 

Adam struggled to keep the disgusted expression off his face, the smell of cigarette smoke brought back a host of unpleasant memories. He leaned away, smoothing the fabric of the green plaid shirt he wore. Barbara returned to pacing, wringing her hands over her chest. 

“Can’t you all do something about him?” Charles demanded, his hands clenched into fists. He was a man of business, he knew corporations and understood how to work his way up a ladder. After her sudden appearance in the Netherworld, Juno informed those who greeted her of her name and position. She provided a simplified explanation of the bureaucratic system before launching into a discussion of the issue at hand. Hearing the afterlife had a semblance of law and order filled Charles with reassurance. Organization, a system he could learn to understand. Some control in an environment of chaos. 

“We did do something about him. We banished him here with limitations on his power...made him invisible until his sentence was served” Juno snapped back, looking at the man with a stern expression. She’d faced enough men like him during her lifetime. Powerful, demanding and stubborn “All of that all got screwed up by your brat releasing him. Now he’s free to travel between worlds and be seen” she sighed “luckly there’s the stop clause that keeps him stuck to the house” 

“He’s thought of a way out of that, the whole reason Lydia ran away from him is because he was trying to force her into marrying him.” Adam interjected “called it a green-card thing”

“That son of a bitch,” Juno hissed, bringing her cigarette to her lips again. Marriage to a mortal, surely that couldn’t work. Part of the problem with Beetlejuice was that he was calculated, for being an agent of chaos, he planned and strategized each movement he made. She realized now it was an error on the part of the courts. Leaving him to be banished invisible in the mortal realm with a tremendous amount of time for him to research and plot his escape. It only made sense he’d found something. The only problem was Juno was unsure if it would work. More so, what would happen to the mortal he married. The cigarette in her fingers shortened to a stub. She extinguished it on the table, eliciting a strangled whimper from Adam. 

If the mortal in question was Lydia, then she was already damned. The afterlife had no sympathy for those who broke the rules. Once caught she’d be punished. If her soul became tied to Beetlejuice’s then it was a question of which punishment could be worse. These were decisions above her paygrade. Her job was to evaluate cases, determine if help was needed, deserved, and available. At this point, she was unsure if it was deserved. Perhaps the punishment in question should be living with the repercussions of bringing Beetlejuice to life. That outcome, however, held darker implications for the rest of the world. 

“I am unsure if it will work. However, if it does, then we will all have a larger problem on our hands.” she admitted drawing another cigarette up and lighting it. The other she flicked across the room only to be retrieved by Adam before it could leave a mark on the finished floors. “If he is allowed free in the mortal realm, there is no telling what he could do. If the marriage brings him to life, he’ll need to be stopped and fast.” 

“You’re not suggesting I allow my daughter to marry that thing?” Charles exclaimed incredulously. Juno met him with a cold stare. 

“There’s no ‘allowance’ in this situation. This situation is screwed...You two” she pointed at the Maitlands “should already be in the Netherworld, You two shouldn’t be able to see me but your brat got herself in over her head.” She leaned forward in her chair continuing, “If they come back, and she’s agreed to go through with the marriage...which, knowing him, I can imagine would be something he’d hold in exchange for returning to the mortal realm. The task falls on you to stop him” 

“We can’t kill him! He’s a-”

“If it works, then he’ll be alive, so yes, you can kill him. If that is his plan then he’ll have a weakness... you’ll have to strike fast before he can suspect anything”

“Can’t you all help-”

“This isn’t my mess to clean up” Juno snapped moving to stand “What we will do on our end is track them down, whether they are together or not they’re both doing a good job of flying under the radar. It makes me think he’s got her already...masking her presence with some spectral energy.”

That was the last thing the four adults at the table wanted to hear. That Beetlejuice had her, it opened the doors to a whole host of other scenarios and suspicions of his intentions and actions. Sweet Sardonic Lydia trapped between variations of damnation. It seemed there was no salvation for her. Though she’d long since been deceased, Juno hadn’t lost her affinity for making deals if there was hope in getting them to follow through with the plan they needed motivation. 

“If you are able to stop him before he truly becomes free, it may be a bargaining chip for Lydia’s soul,” she teased the notion like a carrot. There it was, heads snapping up, hope flickering like a candle. “Fix the problem she created before it gets worse.”

“What do we do if we need to contact you again,” Adam asked, sensing she was preparing to leave. Juno turned to him, blowing a cloud of smoke in his face in response before she evaporated from the realm. As quickly as she appeared before them, she was gone. 

“Where did she go!?” Delia exclaimed, jumping up from the table, starting to look around. She looked entirely out of sorts, her signature bun atop her head beginning to fall askew. Confused, overwhelmed, and exhausted, she began to cry. Before Charles could even move, Adam was at her side. His hand rubbed circles on her back, murmuring soft words of comfort. Charles stood and approached her other side, placing a reassuring hand on her head, his other on Adam’s shoulder. Barbara paced before them panic rising like bile once did in her throat. 

“Lydia, she’s trapped with that thing and who knows what’s going to happen to her and…” her voice warbled as she struggled to keep herself together. It was a losing battle. Charles lifted his hand and beckoned her closer to them. There was nothing for it. It was an unprecedented situation none of them hoped to face, but the only way they could do it was together. Charles tilted his head forward touching against Barbara’s as she joined the hug. Emily’s words came to mind. 

“We just have to hold on to each other and get through” his voice came as a low rumble from his throat as the four struggled to support each other and hold onto some morsel of hope that all of it would work out. 

…

“Just hold on to each other and get through”

The words echoed in Emily’s head as she placed the freshly harvested elation into the distiller. The process drenched in monotony. It allowed her time to turn over every thought in her head, never offering a reprieve. She had little hope that Charles understood what she meant; he was too literal. He was too prone to avoiding any sense of feeling. Her heart ached for her daughter. 

Every so often since her arrival in the Netherworld she thought she felt a pull, a beckoning. Almost like Lydia was calling to her. Of course, given her new line of work, she knew communication through the worlds was possible, but this was different. It was a call made from desperation, born of the connection they shared when Emily was alive. She had enough sense to know what was happening. Her daughter begged for a sign. Some testament to know she was there. 

Lydia had to feel alone. If Charles coped how Emily anticipated he would, she’d be isolated—trapped in her grief with no one to understand the magnitude of her interactions. Lydia wasn’t a person to be comforted by someone’ thinking of her’ she wasn’t someone who felt hope at being in anothers’ prayers’. She favored Emily’s logic that the normative responses to grief were nothing more than people trying to comfort themselves. To adopt the role of the sympathetic person, assume the mantel of caring relative. She knew enough to anticipate that Lydia would turn in on herself. She’d sour, her words would become caustic, her actions malicious. This is what spurred Emily on to try and send her signs. To let her know she wasn’t alone, even if there was no way for her to know what was happening in her life. 

First, there was the lightning strike. It took her some time to learn but with enough studying of resources she learned that weather could be targeted. This had been one of the first favors she sought out, finding a specter who’d be willing to aid her with the right exchange of materials. After providing what was at least two weeks salary worth of emotions from the distillery to the Demon the weather enacted. Lightning struck the top of the townhouse she once shared with the family, and still, Lydia called out to her. Next Emily saught out another sign, another thing that would be impossible to ignore. She couldn’t afford the same service twice instead spent her time studying how to harvest her own energy to affect the world of the living. Her second sign came in the form of mice, filling every floor of the townhouse. She could practically hear Charles cursing her departed soul, but Lydia, she’d know what was happening. She’d know her mother was behind it. Or at least, so she thought. The calling still continued. Had her death left the girl that needy? What more did she want? A Nuclear bomb? 

She watched as the elation, concentrated as a kelly green hue lightened to become nearly translucent. The massive emulsifier before her drained the liquid into clear tubes that shot off in different directions across the distillery to fill vials for distribution. The machines were over a story tall, she stood on the bridge overlooking it all. Her eyes moving to the figures walking around in the lobby. Most people in the Netherworld dressed in odd patterns and fashions. She’d yet to see a creature entirely decked in stripes. The small figure next to him bore something closer to her own aesthetic. Her face turned up as she looked around, acting as if she was in a museum. 

There was something eerily familiar about the creature. She didn’t recognize the purple skin, of course, but beneath that. Realization dawned on her if Emily had a heart, it would have stopped beating right at that moment. It couldn’t be...it hadn’t been that long...unless? Forgetting all sense of obligation and decorum she sprinted to the spiral staircase.

…

Beetlejuice kept annoyingly close to her as they approached the distillery. Lydia couldn’t tell if the irritation was born of the proximity or the confusing feelings it stirred. Either way, it was inconvenient and distracting. To anyone watching the sight of them walking into the building might have appeared comical, with Lydia taking steps away from him only to have him close the distance with his strides. The result was a disjointed crooked pattern that made it look like they were being blown off course by a strong breeze. Finally losing patience, Beetlejuice grasped her arm and kept her beside them. 

“Would you stop being so fucking difficult” he growled. Lydia started to drum up a response to him but struggled to the physical rush she felt having his hands on her again. Her protest died in her throat as they entered the building. The doorman gave Beetlejuice an apprehensive look as he held the door open for them. Whether the silence was born of fear or respect, it was unclear.

Lydia’s eyes hungrily devoured the scene before her. Corpses and creatures of all kinds flittered about the lobby they stood in, some toting bags, others vials, other’s pushing carts. They bore long black robes that stood out in stark contrast to the blinding white space around them. Massive copper machines stood over a story high, from them tubes filled with brightly colored liquids interwove throughout the area above their heads, disappearing off into other parts of the factory. 

“What do they do here?” Lydia breathed in amazement. It reminded her of something out of Charlie and the Chocolate factory. Beetlejuice didn’t answer at first, his experience was not one of wonder or fascination. He was on edge, apprehensive ready to lash out. This was risky, too risky. Lydia was practically bursting with emotion that threatened to attract every goddamn harvester in this place. That was the last thing they needed, then things would get really complicated. Scanning the room like a predator already, he detected a switch, A turn of the head, a wrinkle of the nose. Lydia’s living energy permeated the air around them. One figure was on the move, straight in their direction. Nope, not today.

“Hang on, we’ve got to move kid” he steered her out of the lobby into a stairwell. Large spaces were not their friend. She obliged him, hurridly crossing the area while trying to take in everything she passed. Her hands reached for the camera she still wore around her neck, but they wore moving too fast for her even to attempt to grab a picture.

Once in the stairwell, he sealed the door behind them, pressing his back against it as he looked to her. 

“Quick summary, they harvest breathers here, zap their emotions and turn them into the netherworld equivalent of booze...this is just about one of the worst places for you to be right now Lyds” he held her gaze “but I promised you we’d find your mom, so we’re here, to get this little family reunion done I need you to try and stay as calm as possible through this whole thing, suppress your feelings or whatever like a good yuppie otherwise they’re going to sniff you out.” 

“Harvest emotions? What do you mean? Why do they do that?” Lydia questioned, trying to make sense of all she was saying. 

“I meant what I said. There isn’t time to explain the whole fucking process,” Beetlejuice growled at her. She met his gaze with a determined look, her brow-raising to indicate she wasn’t amused. Lydia’s stubbornness could be cute, but right now, it tested Beetlejuice’s last ounce of restraint. She broke his gaze, tilting her head back to look up the stairwell as if trying to catch a glimpse at the floors above. 

“Lydia this is fucking serious’ he growled, going to take her chin in his hand so she’d look to him. It was an odd reversal of roles, to be the one telling another to be serious. More often he needed to be reminded, but not here, not this time. Lydia’s life was on the line, more so even her afterlife could be compromised, and it wasn’t something he was about to let happen. She was her ticket out. 

“Fine” Lydia glowered at him slapping his hand away from her chin. “I’ll shove them down, forgive me for being excited to see my Mom again.” 

“Sooner we get this done, sooner we can get on with the other end of the deal.” 

“That’s all you fucking care about isn’t, your end of the deal.” 

“Pretty much yeah” He sneered at her, imitating her pattern of speech “forgive me if my cold dead heart doesn’t flutter at the resolution of your mommy fixation.” 

“You’re such an asshole,” new emotion. This time resentment and anger bubbled up in Lydia. Goddammit, why did Breathers have to have so many feelings? Moreso, why did they have to change so quickly and rise to such dramatic levels at the flip of a switch. He cursed as Lydia turned away from him and stomped up the stairs, eager to get away from him. 

“Calm down for fuck’s sake Lyds” he chased after her. “You act like this is new fuckin’ news Babes, I’ve already told you I don’t understand why you want to see your Mom so bad, You’re lucky I’m even holding up my end of the bargain.” 

“Beetlejuice you-” what he was, he never found out. At that moment, the door beside them flung open, a dark-robed figure dashed into the stairwell A split-second pause, enough time for Beetlejuice to note dark hair and pale skin before his eyes blinded with rage. The figure let out a strangled cry and launched itself at Lydia, taking her into its arms and releasing sounds that echoed in the staircase. 

Nope, no way, not on his watch. No one was getting his Lydia. Caution thrown to the wind Beetlejuice drew in all of his power, releasing a powerful force onto the figure so that it was blown back into the wall. The sickening crunch of bones breaking amplified the impact, were the creature living it certainly would have died right there. Instead, a low moan escaped its lips as it slid to the floor. 

That wasn’t the sound that echoed in the stairwell; however, What did was a horrified scream. The sound of vocal cords pushed to the brink as a voice cried out in shock and desperation. 

“MOM?!”

  
  



	8. Meetings and Sparings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tried my hands with some action writing this chapter! Meant to add more to this update but the chapter wrapped itself up so neatly. We finally get to know Emily more!

"Mom!!" Lydia screeched at the top of her lungs, her voice echoing in the staircase to the point that it reverberated off the white walls raining the sound down around her. She dropped to her side, helping her sit up after she slumped over on the ground. She couldn't be dead. She just couldn't be. The logical side of Lydia's mind whispered that there was no way she was hurt, given that they were in the Netherworld. As with all instances of panic, however, that logical voice was quiet and unheard over the cacophony of panicked screams in Lydia's head. 

Emily stirred on the ground, groaning and pushing herself up. The force Beetlejuice hit her with was enough to leave her disoriented. She looked at the striped demon before her confused. 

"What the hell did I do to you?" she snapped, sitting up so that her vertebrae snapped back into place, making them sound like a xylophone. She glowered at the demon who stood seething her as he balled up another flame of energy to throw at the unknown corpse. She grabbed her daughter's arm and moved her behind. The move was unsuccessful as Lydia darted out, running between them with her arms raised. 

"Beej wait!" she shouted, going to place her hands on his chest. 

"Lydia move!" both shouted at her, their voices filled with annoyance. Beetlejuice wrapped an arm around her and held her against him as he tried to get an angle to throw the fireball at Emily. Growling the tiny goth in his arms, Lydia grabbed his wrist, throwing off his aim. 

"Beej! Stop that's my Mother" He paused, in truth, the news that it was her mother made him want to throw the fireball more. He looked to the figure a few stairs up from them, suddenly facing the reality that he had to share Lydia. The thought filled him with rage born of insecurity. As such, he made no moves to pull the arm back from her waist. He gave the woman a closer look, taking the similarities. 

Lydia was undeniably a clone of her mother. The same black hair, the same dark eyes, pointed chins, thin figure. The same irritated scowl. Both had the habit of lifting the right corner of their lip to show disgust, showing just a hint of teeth like they were growling. Emily's eyes were lighter than Lydia's, perhaps being one of the few traits that spoke Charles's patronage rather than just spawning Lydia through mitosis. Emily's skin was pale, lacking the fake violet hue he'd given Lydia to carry on the ruse that she was among the deceased. Perhaps she was farther along into accepting her existence in the Netherworld. 

The two dark-haired women looked to Beetlejuice expectantly, like they expected him to apologize. Fat chance of that. Lydia's eyes bored into him, her brows disappearing beneath the fridge of her bangs. When it became apparent that he wasn't going to say anything of his unprovoked assault, she wiggled herself free of his grasp and crossed the space to join her mother again. Her movement spurred Emily forward, opening her arms again and wrapping them around her daughter. She kept a suspicious eye on Beetlejuice as she did so, preparing to be thrown back again. 

Taking the step into her mother's arms Lydia couldn't help the tears that started to flow down her face. She buried her face in her mother's chest, desperately throwing herself into the embrace she'd been denied for six months. She could faintly smell the remnants of her old perfume mixed with a lingering essence of the chemicals used to preserve her for the wake. Unlike her body, at the wake, her skin was soft again. It still held the waxy presence of death, but none of it mattered. All that mattered to Lydia was that she was back with her mother again after thinking she was gone for months. 

"Oh my little Lyds, I've missed you so much" Emily breathed, nuzzling her head into Lydia's hair. She pressed a kiss to her forehead and pulled back in surprise. She was warm, not just her forehead but all of her. Stepping back, she kept her arms on her shoulders and looked her over in confusion. "How long ago did you die?" she asked, bringing a hand up to rest on her daughter's cheek. She didn't want to think about what events brought her to the Netherworld but sensed the warmth must be a signature of a recent departure. 

"I'm not dead" Lydia shook her head as she spoke, bringing her hands up to take her mother's into her own "I'm alive, I needed to see you I-"

"You're alive!?"

"As touching as this reunion is, maybe that's somethin' you don't want to yell Mom" Beetlejuice interrupted, stepping up and placing a hand on Lydia's shoulder. Emily regarded the demon again, giving him a stern look. It struck Beetlejuice how similar the look thrown his way was the one Lydia gave him after making a particularly lewd joke. 

"Who are you?" she asked, tightening her grip on Lydia's shoulders. The teen was in danger of becoming the subject of a tug of war soon. Sensing the tension between the two figures Lydia spoke up to relieve the mounting tension 

"This is Beetle-" she began to say until the moldy hand moved from her shoulder to her lips. 

"Ah-ah-don't say the B-word Babes" he interjected like he was reprimanding her for saying an offensive slur. "We'll do names later...this ain't a safe place to be for her and I gotta make sure my fiance is in one piece for the wedding" 

"I'm sorry the...what?" Emily's eyes flicked back to her daughter, demanding an explanation. Lydia scowled at Beetlejuice, jabbing her elbow into his stomach. He couldn't help but chuckle, loving anytime he brought that flush of irritation to her cheeks. 

"There's a lot I need to explain" Lydia began looking to her mother, and her voice broke off again, due to the sound of voices echoing in the stairwell. A group just entered a few floors up. They were descending towards them, heavy booted footsteps accompanied by a pair of flat heals with a heavy step. 

"Search the facility for the little bitch but do not mess with harvesting efforts, or I'll have you sent to the lost soul's room, do you understand me" The voice was harsh and jarring. It brought a visceral reaction out of the three on the second floor. None more so then Beetlejuice who's grip on Lydia's arm became painful. She made a protesting sound trying to wiggle from his grasp, but he refused to free her. 

"This way" Emily whispered, she darted up the steps and opened the door, looking upward in the direction that Hypatia's voice. Beetlejuice moved Lydia through, not giving her time to protest before Emily joined them, leading the way down the hallway. They walked past the massive copper machines and into a windowless hall with flickering lights. Emily unlocked a door with a swipe of her hands and ushered the two inside. Lydia looked on in confusion, she didn't get a choice of whether she was going to follow or not as the second Emily suggested moving Beetlejuice lifted her off the ground and held her to his side like a disagreeable cat. He kept a mistrustful eye on Emily as she ushered them into the room. 

"We should be good in here." 

Beetlejuice scoffed, looking around the room, he lessened his grip on Lydia mostly due to her irritated struggling. "This isn't good enough, Lyds. Let's go you can't be here" He pulled on her arm, eliciting a feral like growl from her lips. She pulled herself free and went to throw her arms up defensively. 

"Stop yanking me around I'm not leaving I JUST GOT TO-" 

"Keep your voice down!" Emily and Beetlejuice hissed in unison. Lydia groaned and put her hands to her head. She sighed and went to take a seat down on an overturned bucket. She brought her head up, making a point to press each foot into the ground while defiantly looking to Beetlejuice as if to indicate she was gluing herself there. He raised an eyebrow at her releasing a sigh as he ran his hand through his tangled mess. 

"Fine" Lydia snapped. She kept her voice low to placate the two of them. She looked to her mother, unsure of what to say now that she was finally here. She wanted to hug her, ask a million questions, ask for reassurances, but now that Emily stood in front of her, her mind stood empty. 

Perhaps it was the fact that her expression was terse, and she was looking expectantly between Lydia and Beetlejuice as if begging for an explanation. Lydia's hands went to fiddle with the safety pins on her dress, thinking of where to begin. There was an incredible amount to try and summarize into a digestible nugget of information to explain her presence. 

"This is…" she gestured to Beetlejuice, unsure of what to call him since he forbade her from using his name. All other times with his name, since the first time she'd learned it, he seemed to relish when it crossed over her lips. To have him filled with such apprehension at it shared was odd. 

"Lawrence" he completed, keeping his face stoic. Despite all in the situation, Lydia snorted with laughter. 

"What kind of name is that?' she grinned, assuming it was a fake name. She bit her lip at the look he gave her, raising an eyebrow at him.

"That's not what you made me guess me on the roof." she countered, standing up from the bucket. 

"It's my first name" 

"So the other one is what a nickname?" 

"Tell the story Lydia" he snapped, flickers of yellow appearing in his mane, indicating discomfort. He gestured to her mother, who was observing the two of them curiously. Lydia swallowed down the rest of the laughter sensing from his expression not to push him. She breathed and looked back to her mother, starting to pace as she spoke, 

"Lawrence is a demon…he brought me here under the agreement...well uh, I guess I should start from the beginning." she frowned, looking down at her hands. The reality of all she'd done and agreed to crashed down on her at an alarming rate. 

"Nothing's been the same since you died, Dad's just...he's closed off...he refuses to talk about any of it...anything that we've gone through, he won't say your name, he won't say anything" the words that seemed like they wouldn't come now were spewing at such a speed she feared she wouldn't be able to get them out in enough time. "He's just...different. We've barely been home...we kept going on trips...the memories in the house were too much for him, I guess...not that I'd know because he refused to talk to me about anything... he hired me a life coach, we moved. He didn't even tell me we were moving, he said it was a business trip, He got it in his head he wanted to make a gated community and-' 

"Of course he did" Emily shook her head, putting a hand to her temple and rubbing her head as if she were getting a headache. "He tried to convince me to move to a gated community for years, said it'd be safer for you... but I told him he could pry new york from my cold dead fingers...well I guess he did" she gave a derisive snort waving her hand to indicate Lydia should keep speaking. 

"He bought this house...and then announced we were moving there...and I just couldn't take it anymore." she shook her head "I was trapped...I am trapped...he won't listen to me...but the good thing about the house was that I met the Maitlands, they've been one good part of being there…"

She was interrupted by Beetlejuice snorting this time. He leaned back against the door they'd come in through picking under his filthy fingernails. "The Maitlands...more boring than the music man" he muttered. Lydia flashed a quizzical look in his direction before continuing. 

"Adam and Barbara, they're dead...they died in the house... they're really wonderful...very sweet"

"Very stupid" 

"Very kind" Lydia spoke over Beetlejuice, who chuckled to himself, gesturing for her to continue as if he wasn't interrupting. 

"Keep going. You're almost at the good part of the story Lyds" 

"They wanted their house back, they were going to try and help me scare Dad but then I," she broke off, unsure if she wanted to be the one telling her mother about her father moving on. It felt disrespectful to move on so quickly. She plunged forward, wanting to see her mother's indignation to know that her choices had been right in avenging her memory. "I ran into his room, screaming that the house was haunted and found him in bed fucking Delia, and then he had the nerve to tell me they were getting married" she snarled.

"Delia?" Emily repeated, her face neutral. Lydia nodded vehemently.

"Delia, my life coach" she seethed "You know, the one who he hired to help me but then decided he'd help himself to…" she made a disgusted sound, her voice taking on a sickly sarcastic tone "so we can be the perfect new family in Connecticut...I couldn't do it, and I decided to" her voice dropped in tone, she stumbled to find the words, not wanting to admit to her mother what she'd been so close to doing. 

"She decided she was going to throw herself off the roof and sign up for an eternity of civic service until I stopped her," Beetlejuice interrupted again. He gestured to himself, proudly claiming the title of hero. Lydia snapped to look at him, irritated at his willingness to take credit for the fact she was still alive. 

"You were going to kill yourself?" Emily asked again, her tone neutral. Just hearing it made Lydia want to cry. She craved this response so desperately for her mother. Emily was dramatic. She loved to do the unexpected. She lived for putting up haunted houses in July, but when it came to serious matters, Lydia could always count on her to be calm. Truly calm, not the kind of energy Charles tried to emulate that simply brought out the vein in his temple. 

"Yes" Lydia answered. "I couldn't do it anymore. I needed you... there's nothing left, it's a whole world where nothing is left" her voice broke. Beetlejuice's eyes snapped to Emily, watching to see her reaction challenging and demanding that she comfort Lydia.

"I missed you, Lydia, I wish I didn't have to leave you, but you know that's not the answer. Those souls are trapped, remember that tour we went on, with the ghost stories" 

"The ones that never move on" Lydia sighed. "I didn't kill myself...Bee-Lawerence stopped me" a small smile reappeared on her face. It didn't go unnoticed by Emily. She found the interactions between the two odd, to say the least. She had more tact than just to come out and say it, however. 

"I did, and then she repaid me by throwing me off the roof...but seeing as I'm already dead that didn't help. Then I saved the day a few hours later" Beetlejuice looked immensely pleased with herself. "Scared Chuck real good...that bald chump shit his pants"

"Charles is bald now?"

"No, Maxie Dean" Lydia corrected. The story was getting away from her. 

"Oh him, I hate him." Emily scowled "creepy piece of shit, Tried to make a pass on me once at one of is fourth of July barbeques. I stuffed his monogrammed towels in his toilets, so he had to close his Hampton house for plumbing renovations that summer." 

Beetlejuice raised a brow looking impressed. Lydia smirked, shaking her head. Her eyes lit up with excitement as she proceeded to tell her mother about the three days' worth of pranks with Beetlejuice. He flashed a smug look at Emily, flexing his snake-like tongue to impress her. He recalled the three days fondly. They'd been his best in a long time. He'd finally been seen not only by those he terrorized but by his pint-sized goth in crime. The connection he felt with Lydia over that time was unlike anything he ever experienced. It was something he wasn't willing to let go of even if it took a bit of force to get her to stay. Sometimes to get the right effect, the shift from classical to operant conditioning needed to take place. He found her. He wasn't about to let her go. He clicked back into the conversation as he heard Lydia's words slow. She was recounting her failed attempt to bring Emily back, and his con. 

A nagging irritating feeling arose in Beetlejuice as she spoke. It was something he didn't recognize. It wasn't a physical feeling. It wasn't pride or anger, something altogether unfamiliar. He didn't derive the same pleasure he usually did when he heard his victims recount his cons. Perhaps because Lydia wasn't a victim in his mind? He'd done what was necessary to keep her by his side, and the bonus of freeing him. If he couldn't get her to stay with him, at least he'd have his freedom. That was what he wanted wasn't it? Life could be something even if you'd have someone to share it with? 

"So you're engaged to a demon...to save your family, but you ran away to the Netherworld to come find me...and he's accompanied you?" Emily repeated the information slowly, verifying she'd taken in every important detail of this insane story. Lydia nodded her head, biting her lip. She'd expected more of a reaction out of her when she heard she was engaged to a demon. Sure the arrangement was born of extortion, but her mother didn't seem the least bit phased about it. 

It was bizarre. Lydia's other parents had massive reactions to it. Emily was always a calm and steady parent. The only time she took on the dramatics was during a prank. Lydia couldn't recall a single time she'd been yelled at by her mother. Emily always treated her like an equal, a sentient being. Emily always listened. Lydia watched her mother with rapt attention as she held her arms out, speaking again. 

"Ok, well... I'm here, what did you want to ask me…" there was no hint of judgment in her voice. Lydia was surprised at the question. She'd been so focused on finding her mother, talking to her again, eradicating the distance death placed between them that she never considered what she was going to do once she found her. 

"I want you to come back." the teen admitted looking down at her hands. "I want you to be with us again, and to go back to the way things were, back to new york back to everything..." 

"Lydia, you know I can't do that" Emily sighed, moving close to cup her daughter's face. She tilted her chin up to wipe the fresh tears from her daughter's face. "We can't go back to what was. There is no spell to bring back the dead. You know that" 

"There has to be something" Lydia choked. "I can't...I can't go back to what it was...to Dad ignoring me, to being invisible, to any of it" her muscles tensed, and she wrapped them around her mother's corpse. She felt a reassuring hand stroke her hair, though her body lacked the scent and warmth she was used to. It still spoke of what she'd been yearning for in the six months since she'd died.

"If I could go back, I would... I've tried, but my life is over. That chapter is done Lydia, at the risk of agreeing with your father, we can only move forward. Not how he does, of course, but coming down here...it doesn't solve anything" She pulled back, brushing a lock of Lydia's hair behind her ear. "It only complicates things further...you have to go back" 

"I can't go back" Lydia protested, holding her mother tighter. She didn't know what she expected now that she was on the other side. In truth, she hadn't expected to get this far. She hoped either that someone she'd die and get to stay forever or that her mother would have a plan for them. None of them appeared to be options. "Can't you just let me stay here? Let them kill me. Then we can be together" 

Beetlejuice managed to stay silent and observant through the whole encounter, but with this statement from Lydia, he tensed. 

Emily spoke before he could interject, "Absolutely not," she shook her head. "It doesn't feel like it right now, Lydia, but your life is precious. You can't just throw it away. You're a Deetz, and an Addams. You don't walk away, and You don't give up on family" She looked at her sternly. "Your life isn't over, and hopefully it won't be for a very long time, You have to go back and deal with everything" 

"How can you ask that of me?" Lydia breathed, looking down at her hands. Go back home, keep trying to live in that invisible existence where the world moved on around her. She shook her head, emphasizing her refusal. "How can you ask me to leave now that I've found you" 

Beetlejuice found himself growing irritated. Lydia was asking for options as though her fate hadn't already been sealed. Twice now, she'd agreed to marry him and attempted to run away once. He wasn't going to be nearly as gentle with her if Lydia tried to jilt him again. She made a deal with a demon. Even if her fiancee was a con man, she wasn't about to get out of the deal she'd made. Not without severe consequences. 

He opened his mouth to object, to remind his little breather of the bargain she'd struck when the sound of footsteps stole the words from his lips. The door he'd braced against flew open, casting him into the wall. He swore groaning as it pressed him between the door and the wall like an inconsequential insect. 

"What are you two doing in here?" a voice asked, blessedly unfamiliar. It wasn't Hypatia nor Juno. There was a small group of masculine figures outside of the room all looking to squeeze in as part of their efforts to search the premises. For the moment, they seemed unaware of the demon they'd inadvertently pressed against the wall. Emily tightened her grip on Lydia's arms as she looked to them in shock. 

"Restock" she lied quickly. "Obviously, why are you disturbing us" Emily snapped with more authority than she felt at that moment. Sure, that wasn't what the closet was for, but she hoped the buffoonish creatures before her might take the lie. They didn't appear to be the brightest bulbs, still dressed in the ripped football jerseys they'd died in. It seemed the lie would take, as they gave small nods to indicate their grunts and acceptance of her quickly sprouted farce. That was until one in the back took a closer look at Lydia's face. The teen looked down for most of the encounter but had just turned her face in concern to see Beetlejuice pressed against the wall. 

"Thats her!" he exclaimed, raising a molding finger with the bone partially exposed. Lydia snapped her attention to him in surprise, connecting her eyes with his sunken orbs for just a moment before the world around her exploded. Beetlejuice launched himself off the wall with the force of an Olympic swimmer anchoring a relay. The door slammed behind him, casting three football players back into the hallway and severing one completely in half. He grabbed the skull that was left behind in the room and crushed it within his clawed hand. It fell to dust on the ground before him, the spirit that once held a corporeal form disintegrating to another sector of the Netherworld, or so Lydia could assume. Could Beetlejuice create the same devastating effect as an exorcism with his own hands? She didn't have time to ask. 

"Welp we're fucked. Change of plans" He flicked his fingers scattering the dust as if it was cigarette ash. He approached the pair before him. Lydia grabbed her mother's arms apprehensively. She was expecting him to yank her away as he promised to do when she first ran into the Netherworld. Lydia shook her head, pleading with him. He couldn't do that to her, not right when she'd been able to reconnect. There was so much more she wanted to do, wanted to say. 

"Beej wait-" she began, tears streaming down her face. Her voice ripe with pleading. He had to give her more time. She needed to convince him, appeal to some small side of her. To promise him her body or something, whatever it was didn't matter. He would lay claim to her either way. 

Outside of the door, they could hear shouts, footsteps approaching. Calling out screams about intruders, stripes, and demons. They knew Lydia was there. What was worse, they knew Beetlejuice was with her. There was no hope. Beetlejuice stepped up to the pair, cupping Lydia's face in his hands while pursing his lips. His glowing eyes scanned her before he puckered his lips, drawing in a breath. He did not need to exhale but blew onto her none the less. A putrid acid green cloud escaped from his lips and enveloped the pair before him, causing them to vanish into time and space, reappearing back in the now dark roadhouse. 

Lydia gasped for air, though it was limited in the space. Her dark eyes looked around the area, full of shock as she realized her arms still clung to her mothers. What's more, Beetlejuice was not with them. 

"Beej?" she called out, uncertainly looking around for him. She'd been afraid he'd take her away, but not knowing where he'd gone felt decidedly worse. She turned to her mother, who looked just as bewildered as she was. 

"Beetlejuice?" Lydia called out into the dark empty space around him. She'd been afraid to have him approach her, but now her mind ran in circular thoughts of where he could be and if he was alright. Odd that the very creature who moments ago invoked fear left a longing in his absence. "Oh god...is he alright?" she heard the words coming over her lips before she could stop them. 

…

Beetlejuice was not alright. He was fucked for lack of a better expression, and despite his existence as a very sexual demon, it was not in the way he wanted to be. Anonymity no longer afforded to him. He'd sent Lydia to the roadhouse purely for the sake of throwing the guards off the trail. Faced with the prospect of a formerly banished demon in the Netherworld he mused searching for a trespassing breather would pale in comparison. So he did what he did best. A bait and switch lured those gathering outside of the door into a trap. He let them build up the false hope that they'd managed to find the renegade breather. 

Once he felt sure enough gathered outside, he burst the door open, sending more back into the wall. He turned his palms up to the sky, invoking balls of flames to intimidate the guards. Extra limbs sprung from his back, grabbing the throats of two adversaries and pinning them to the wall. 

"Hiya folks" he leered, manic eyes taking in the chaos around him. There was nothing they could do to fight against him. The malice he'd been repressing bubbled up to the surface. He was going to enjoy this. One of the braver guards attempted to step to him. Only to be enveloped with flames as Beetlejuice threw the fireball in his direction. His anguished screams filled the hallway, now those who'd attempted to corner him started to scatter, screaming in terror.

God, he loved that sound. Getting breathers to scream meant he was visible, there was something equally exhilarating as the screams that came from those who thought they couldn't be harmed after death. Nothing was as fun as shattering a sense of safety. 

"Where are y'all going? The show's just gettin' started!?" he teased, adding a southern twang to his voice as he created a lasso with an extra limb, grabbing the ankles of two who'd made it to the end of the hallway. He yanked them back, taking their heads and smashing them together as efficiently as cracking eggshells. Their spectral essences leaked from their concave skulls like emerald yolks, banishing them to the lost souls' room. His cackles filled the small space, masking the sound of approaching footsteps. 

"BEETLEJUICE!" a voice as harsh and caustic as acid filled the hallway. His ears immediately recognized the sound. He turned his head, smiling menacingly. 

"Hiya Mom" he hissed, tossing the headless body to Hypatia's feet. It had been ages, literal ages since he'd last seen his mother. Yet still, her very presence set him on edge. His essence felt unstable, radioactive, and ready to combust at the slightest movement. Before his banishment, he'd endured endless amounts of abuse at Hypatia's hands. Emotional, Verbal not to mention the harmful effect of neglect of indifference to his existence. Every moment around her, She told him he was a mistake, a waste an abomination. He was an affront against nature, a reminder of everything she'd done wrong. 

"What the hell are you doing here, you pathetic of shit" Hypatia kicked the body at her feet aside with careless indifference. She stalked towards him, each step causing the space around them to darken. 

"Aww, and here I'd thought you'd be happy to see me, maybe a flash ol' remorse since last time you saw me was when you abandoned me to the Netherworld council" Beetlejuice sneered. He felt like a caged animal, ready to tear her limb from limb, yet part of him felt afraid. Part of him felt like that small, scared demon hiding as a bottle of netherworld booze was thrown at his head. "Yeh look terrible by the way you haggard bitch" 

Every part of him wanted to disappear and destroy her in some way though he knew he couldn't. He'd already tried to kill her once. Evil didn't die so easily, especially when it was already dead. 

"Remorse!? That was the best day of my goddamn afterlife" Hypatia shrieked, releasing a chorus of mirthless laughter. "You're not supposed to be down here. You're banished Dropping you off at the council was fun the first time, but this time is going to be even better! You've violated your sentence. I can't wait to see what they've cooked up for you this time. Not going to be as sweet as the sentence will be for your little mortal pet" 

Two sets of amber eyes narrowed on each other, challenge lurking in each gaze. Primal frenetic energy radiated from each being as they danced around each other like animals ready to fight. Beetlejuice's lip curled, his hair betraying him and showing concern in the form of poisonous yellow streaks in his hair. 

"Oh yeah, I know all about her" Hypatia grinned, stalking closer, still like a snake curling around its prey. Her fangs bared, her words dripping from her mouth like deadly venom. "All about what you did, you finally got someone to see you... isn't that sweet" she hissed. 

With an inhuman growl, Beetlejuice summoned a ball of flame and heaved it at her. Hypatia merely laughed again, her voice echoing off the walls just as her spawn's had moments ago. She relished in the reaction she drew from him. All the information Juno had relayed from the Breathers sharpened into deadly weapons meant to cut at the demon before her. "And then she ran down here...to get away from you. Imagine that...I just wonder why you chased after her?" 

Her voice twisted like a knife in his back. She'd always been good at this. Cutting him where she knew it would mark the deepest. Even in his early days of existence, she mocked his desire to be seen, cared for, feared. No matter how monstrous and destructive he got, she could always employ the same tactics. He was so predictable. Lifting her voice, so it became saccharine, ripe with mocking, she sunk her claws in deeper. Metaphorically and physically as she clutched his shoulder, digging into his grimy suit.

"Imagine choosing death and eternal damnation to avoid being bound to a creature like you" 

As the words left her mouth, she summoned a rush of power, so it shot through her fingers. She felt him convulse beneath her, his knees buckling as he fell to the ground. She flexed her fingers as she dug her foot into his side, turning him over. He groaned smoke curling from beneath his jacket with the motion. She'd been able to strike faster than he could react. 

"Pathetic" she spat down at his shoulder. "Not even worth my time, You're a waste...all that power, for nothing. Just wait, I'm going to find that little breather of yours...tear her throat right in front of you, then soon as her living essence is gone...well" she paused to chuckle darkly summoning a cigarette. She blew a smoke ring in his face "the lost souls will be a welcome vacation to what the council has cooked up for her" 

"YOU'RE NOT GONNA FUCKING TOUCH HER!" Beetlejuice roared, leaping to his feet as he grabbed hold of Hypatia. He gripped her throat, summoning all the force he possibly could. No matter how much strength he applied, she still laughed darkly. There was no need for air though her voice strained as he bashed her head against the wall. No matter what he did, he couldn't destroy her. It was part of the terms of his punishment. The protection afforded by the council after he nearly destroyed her the first time. He couldn't kill her, destroy her, do any of the things he could to the other inhabitants of the Netherworld. 

"Oh Lawrence…you care for that bitch, don't you" She taunted, her voice strained, yet she gripped his throat. "Pathetic" 

"Shut the fuck up" he growled, squeezing tighter. Hypatia's skin tore beneath his claws, the wounds would heal, but she groaned, feeling the pain. He might not be able to destroy her, but he could incapacitate her. He needed to. He had to keep her away from Lydia. Harnessing all the energy he could into his palms, "Don't you fucking talk about her" he growled as she convulsed beneath his hands. She summoned her last bit of energy, knocking him off of her and back into the wall. She wheezed with laughter, coughing up blood as she taunted him. 

"This is going to be delightful to watch" she smirked before she vanished. Beetlejuice felt fear grip him again. Apprehensive and panicked, his thoughts circled back to Lydia once more. He needed to get her out of the Netherworld.  _ Now _ . 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So my thoughts on how demons can fight. I headcanon there are very few things that can eradicate their existence but when they fight with each other it drains/depletes energy kind of like a video game? Hopefully that came across clearly. 
> 
> Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think!


	9. What is this feeling?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Their cover is blown, The babes are split up and Emily's forced to have a difficult talk with her daughter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Source citing time!! I borrowed one of my favorite lines of all time from Queen Babe Rae, theartofsuicide herself. She never received her credit from the musical so I'm putting it in here. 
> 
> "He's a monster, but he's my monster" 
> 
> Read the rest here:  
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/12957618/chapters/29620776

“Oh God, is he alright?” Lydia’s hands went to her hair as she began to pace back and forth. Fear gripped her as she looked around the room he’d sent them to. She tried to gather herself and at least figure out where they were. She recognized the tattered armchair from the first time he’d brought her here. They were in the roadhouse again. 

Emily stood back and watched her, taking in the scene around her. She moved to ensure the door was locked, and the shutters were closed. Satisfied for the moment, Emily turned to look at her daughter lost in the throes of panic. 

“Lydia, breathe,” she urged, going to take hold of her shoulders. 

“I can’t, Mom...I just...I need...I need to know if he’s ok” she made to leave the house, intent on summoning Doomie and getting back to the distillery. Emily held her tighter, refusing to leave. 

“They’re looking for you! You can’t go back there. We have to get you back in the living world, Lydia it’s not safe for you down here!” Emily moved her hand to brush the self-cut bangs out of her face. Cupping her daughter’s face in her hands, she looked at her somberly. “I know you care about him, but we were on the same page. You don’t understand what they’ll do to you if they find you-” 

“I DON’T care about him-I mean I do...I just...I can’t let, I can’t” she slid to the ground in her mother’s arms, Emily falling with her as she kept her arms wrapped around her torso. A million thoughts of what could be happening ran through her head. Lydia found she couldn’t string together a cohesive theory. The exhaustion poured into her mind; she wasn’t sure what to make of the situation. With Beetlejuice gone, she didn’t have to worry about being forced into marriage. With Beetlejuice gone, she didn’t have to worry about her family being in danger. There was no one to force her to the other side. 

They’d only known each other for a short time, and yet in that time, Lydia found she’d become attached to the Demon. He was the one to see her when she was invisible since he’d come into her life. He’d made her feel anything but. In fact, he made her feel too visible. His focus on her could be obsessive. Even that was intoxicating. The memory of his extortion attempt sat fresh in her mind. Still, she connected with him better than any other entity she ever came across in her life. He was the closest thing she’d ever had to a best friend, despite all he put her through. He understood her better than anyone, even her mom. She didn’t understand it. The thought of him gone, possibly harmed in her defense, made her entire body feel like it was going to combust. 

She should be comforted by the notion, but it was the last thing on her mind. Emily held her close as they sat on the floor of the dark roadhouse. She wasn’t sure what to do, how to rectify the situation. Of all things she’d expected to find when reunited with her daughter, she hadn’t expected this. For one thing, her daughter was alive. For another, she was forcibly engaged to a demon who she was now crying over on the floor. She held her, keeping her from bolting out into the darkness. She had to think of some plan, something to get her daughter out of harm’s way. 

The situation was worse than she possibly feared. Hypatia had power. She was a fearsome beast with no remorse for life. For her time in the Netherworld, Emily managed to stay on her good side. She’d seen the aftermath of what happened when a misfortune soul pissed her off and was in no hurry to do so herself. Now her daughter’s life was on the line. Since they’d parted, Emily felt the absence of Lydia in her life like a stab where her heart used to be. The pain was as frequent as her heartbeats used to be. And yet despite this, she couldn’t tolerate the idea of anything happening to end Lydia’s life prematurely. 

She held her close and thought of what her options were. She didn’t know the first thing about getting out of the Netherworld, as evidenced by her failed attempts to haunt. Perhaps if she had chalk? The handbook she’d read indicated she needed to use a single piece of chalk to cross over. It was what led to her initial presence in the Netherworld, drawing a door in the hospital room as Lydia and Charles sobbed over her lifeless body. She wondered if chalk could provide the same service if she would be able to draw a door and safely send her daughter back over the line to her safety. She had to try it. It was only a matter of time until they tracked them back to the roadhouse. 

The sudden sound of metal crashing into stone jarred both females from their thoughts. The roadhouse shook with the force of impact. Something collided with the structure. Alarmed Emily dragged Lydia back into a corner with her, scanning the room for means of defense. They heard footsteps approaching, and the creak of the door as it opened slowly. The steps were uneven as though the creature making them was unsteady on their feet. What came next neither woman prepared for. The sound of a body hitting the floor and a low groan that escaped from the creature’s lips. 

“BEETLEJUICE!” Lydia shrieked, spotting the familiar stripes. She broke free of her mother’s hold and ran across the room over to his lifeless body. Well, perhaps those weren’t the right words. He was always lifeless; however, there was a distinct lack of energy as he lay there before her. She knelt at his side, turning him over as she pulled his head into her lap. “Beej? Beej, are you ok? Please, please just say something” her hands were shaking as she took in the injuries on his form. Whatever happened from when he’d sent them away certainly weakened him. 

“Heya Babes,” he groaned, cracking one eye open to look at her. He looked terrible, bearing injuries from the fight he’d been in. To say that Lydia was disturbed at the sight would have been an understatement. She was out of her mind with worry. She’d seen him feign decapitation, fall three stories from the roof, and all manner of disturbing stunts with not a scratch to show in the aftermath. Seeing him like this, in obvious pain and struggling to stay conscious, was unnerving. Lydia rested her palm on his forehead, brushing his deflated hair out of his eyes. Another hand went to push off his jacket to see puncture marks on his shoulder. 

“Oh god, Beetlejuice, what happened,” she asked her voice heavy with concern. He groaned and tried to sit up, the efforts made in getting back to the roadhouse without magic drained his last bit of energy. He needed to get his strength back if there was any hope of getting Lydia out of the Netherworld in one piece. 

“My Mother,” he coughed “Lyds... don’t worry ’bout me, I’ll be fine...yer not gonna be cryin’ over my body anytime soon...just go get me the uh… green bottle from my washroom, it’s behin’ the mirror.” 

“I’ll get it,” Emily volunteered to step away from the scene to weave her way through the dark roadhouse in search of the bottle. Lydia’s fingers were already at his neck, loosening his tie and unbuttoning his shirt. The brush of her living fingers on his skin left the sensation of wildfire in its wake. His hands itched to return the favor, grab hold of her flesh, and feel more of that warmth, but he stopped. He didn’t have the strength, and that wasn’t why she was doing this. Still, he was an incorrigible pervert and couldn’t help but enjoy the sensation her touches brought him. 

She attempted to move him, trying as hard as possible to drag his body towards the dilapidated couch in the living room. Despite her best efforts, the most she did was move him a few inches, being too petite to relocate the full-grown Demon. 

“Hey Kid, thought you were tryin’ to let me stay in one piece,” he groaned, the movement while minor was not helping him. He considered juicing himself up onto the furniture, but that would give everything away. He’d made an effort to drive Doomie back to the roadhouse so the forces tracking them down wouldn’t be able to trace his magic. Just being at the roadhouse was risky, though he’d never made a full claim to the residence before his banishment so many centuries ago. Gossip could still spread, rumors could travel, and magic wasn’t too hard to track. Instead of moving, therefore, he reached a hand up and tapped Lydia’s cheek affectionately. The skin beneath his fingers felt slightly damp. Had she been crying? He suspiciously craned his neck to look at her, “Were you cryin’?” he asked. 

“Yes,” she admitted, not meeting his eyes. Her focus was on the deep puncture wounds on his shoulder left behind by Hypatia’s claws. The skin around the mark appeared charred, like some sort of electricity ran through it, destroying his undead body further. “How did they do this to you? I thought you couldn’t be hurt.” 

“Ye should see they look like,” he boasted with a half-hearted chuckle. “Don’t go gettin to upset. I just need that bottle and a bit of rest, and I’ll be back to myself. Nice to see you care about this ol’ dead guy,” he taunted, bopping her on the nose. The gesture brought out the irritated expression he loved to see as she rolled her eyes. He mused he should explain further to ease her worry “Demons can hurt other demons, I can’t fully destroy her unfortunately as nice as that’d be, but that fuckin’ council cockblocked me on that.” 

“Shh,” Lydia heard the weariness in his voice. It seemed every word out of his mouth took more from his already depleted energy. It was just like him to keep talking despite that. She placed a finger over his mouth and raised a brow at him “if you need rest, then for once in your afterlife shut up,” A smirk played at her lips as she challenged him. Not to be out-done, he slipped his striped tongue from his mouth and coiled it around her finger before she moved away. 

“Ew!” she squealed, earning a chuckle from him. He raised his arms and brought them to her hips just over his head to keep her from wriggling away. She made no efforts to move as he closed his eyes. He was confused yet satiated, feeling her fingers in his tangled hair again. There seemed a disconnect between heart and mind at that moment. Lydia couldn’t pull herself away from him and kept touching him to affirm to herself that he was ok.

Emily came in later to find this endearing yet bizarre scene before her. Beetlejuice unconscious on the floor, his expression peaceful as his head rested in Lydia’s lap. Her daughter’s eyes rested softly on his face as her fingers smoothed his hair in a gentle stroking pattern. She presented the green jar to Lydia, who took it in her hands reading the label. 

‘Satan’s _ Salvation: “Holy Hell that hurts Healing Salve!” The daring Demon’s defense against afterlife attacks.’ _

She noted the devils on the cover before twisting the top of it open, filling the room with a strange odor. It reminded Lydia of a funeral home and farmers market simultaneously. It was decaying yet herbal. She scooped up some of the glowing teal goop and gently spread it on his shoulder where the wound appeared fresh. Her eyes scanned for other markers of injuries on his person. Beetlejuice remained unconscious. Whether he was entirely to restore his energy or merely feigning, it was unclear. 

Emily’s eyes were on her daughter’s; however, watching how gently she applied the salve and chewing her lip as she thought. Lydia felt her eyes upon her and looked up to meet her gaze. 

“What?” she asked, she wasn’t sure why but her cheeks felt hot. 

“We’ve got to get you both back” Emily shook her head and went to take up a spot on the floor beside the pair. Lydia was surprised by that, not because she wanted to send her daughter back but the idea of them both going back. 

“Then I have to marry him,” Lydia answered her tone tense. Her thoughts were convoluted. She wasn’t sure how she felt about the situation but was shocked to hear her mother say something without considering the implication. 

“Lydia,” Emily paused her brow raising. “You have to stop pretending like that bothers you.” 

“What?” Lydia answered in an incredulous tone, “I-I don’t want to….Aren’t you bothered that I’m being forced into marrying a demon!?”

“I’ve always been one for supernatural romances myself” Emily smiled, taking the salve from where it sat next to Lydia and screwing the top back on so the scent was slightly less concentrated aside from where it lay on Beetlejuice’s skin. “So the demon part doesn’t particularly bother me...the age piece isn’t great...but you love him so-” 

“I do not!” Lydia spluttered, her face turning red even in the dim light as she grew embarrassed. She wished to every deity and Demon in existence that Beetlejuice was unconscious and not hearing any of this discussion. Lydia moved to stand up, put some distance between them so as to prove a point but ceased her movement the second he groaned in his sleep at the threat of removal from her lap. She froze, not wanting to cause him any additional discomfort. 

“Yes, you do. You love him,” Emily continued, “You care about him, you already bicker with him like you’re a married couple. The two of you can’t keep your hands off of each other even if it’s platonic. You’re more concerned about him being ok even when you are the one with an actual human life to lose.” 

Realization struck Lydia. She was willing to put his needs before her own. She’d been terrified at the idea of him injured. The thought of losing him, of never hearing one of his lewd comments or jokes again, brought the most overwhelming sense of terror. She’d told herself it was out of guilt, or out of the desire to hold onto her newly found best friend. Her mother’s comment spurred her forward into a sudden realization of her feelings. She liked him for more than just his company. She craved it. She wanted more of it. Unbidden, the memory of his lips on her’s rose and filled her with a strange feeling she refused to give a name to. She looked at her mother, horrified. 

She couldn’t love him. He was a demon. He was disgusting, covered in moss, dirt, and who knows what else. He likely carried thousands of communicable diseases if his stories of sexual adventures were to be believed. Beetlejuice was over a millennia-old, made gross comments, nearly killed Barbara, forced her into accepting his marriage proposal, and had no qualms about killing her father. What would loving a monster like this make her? 

It would make her Lydia Deetz. Lover of the strange and unusual. The invisible, the misunderstood, and the ignored. The lost girl who’d been ready to end her life only to be stopped by the Demon, who now lay in her lap. 

“Oh fuck,” she breathed, covering her mouth with her hand as her jaw dropped. “I...shit,” she kept her voice low as if by some miracle, the words wouldn’t reach his ears. “How...why... what’s  _ wrong _ with me” she looked down at him, looking at all of his aesthetically disgusting features. The bit of unidentified goo oozing from his forehead, the flecks of dirt, the smell he carried. None of it repulsed her like it was supposed to. 

“Nothing is wrong with you,” Emily answered, placing the salve back on the ground after the top was secure. She rested her hands in her lap, “Not in my book anyway. You wouldn’t be the first one...nor will you be the last” 

“Mom, he’s a monster.” 

“But he’s your monster,” Emily interrupted. “Lydia, I might be dead, but I still know you better than anyone else. You’re lying to yourself if you’re saying you don’t care. You love him, and that’s ok, what’s not ok is trying to ignore it.”

“Stop saying that…” Lydia breathed her hands, cradling Beetlejuice’s head. “Stop saying that I love him.” 

“Lydia,”

“Mom,” Lydia interrupted. “I-I can’t yet. I can’t admit that yet...please…” Lydia’s voice cracked as she pleaded. Emily frowned, the exhaustion was evident in her daughter’s voice and face. Standing up, Emily stepped over to the couch and took a few of the filthy throw pillows. 

“Alright, you need to rest while he rests.” She handed her a pillow holding her hand up as the teen opened her mouth to protest. “You can’t go anywhere else, and you look like you’re about to fall over.” she countered, pointing to the couch. “Slip that under his head, I am going to look through the house for a piece of chalk, you over there and rest.”

Lydia watched as she moved away, leaving no room for argument. It was ironic, the thought of resting in the Netherworld. The place of eternal rest where the inhabitants had no physical need to sleep. She hated to admit it, but she was exhausted, the energy dragged from her bones. Complying with her mother’s order, she slipped the pillow beneath Beetlejuice’s head, moving to lie down on the couch. He was still close enough to reach, so as she curled up, she dropped her arm so her fingers could just brush against his hair. 

Lydia’s mind juggled the thoughts of the conversation she had with Emily. Her emotions felt like frayed wires, reactionary, dangerous. She didn’t know how to make sense of them. Quite frankly, after what her mother said, she feared them. Above all of that, she feared for Beetlejuice. Seeing him unconscious, hurt, deader than usual...it was all unnerving. It shook her to her core. She didn’t realize such a thing would matter to her. She didn’t understand thoughts became less tangible, her eyes dropping closed as she unwillingly fell asleep. 

The instant her eyes closed, Beetlejuice’s opened. He swallowed down a groan born from his lingering injuries as he shifted to sit up to look at the sleeping breather before him. He’d been cognizant for the whole conversation half sleeping and conserving his energy while he healed. He’d straddled the line between awake and asleep for a moment before the conversation between mother and daughter met his ears. 

Lydia...in love with him. 

That, he hadn’t foreseen. All of his existence, he was led to believe he was unloveable. To Hypatia, he was an abomination, a mistake, a nasty reminder of transgressions past. To Juno, he was a problem. He’d been a lot of things to a lot of different creatures. He was a pain, a nuisance, a bother, a nightmare, a pervert, a murderer, a monster, but never this. This soft squishy feeling he didn’t understand in the context of all the things he’d felt before. 

Well, no, that was a lie. He had felt it before but briefly, only for a second in a moment of desperation. He’d sampled Amare. Something he’d won in a bet, a quarrel before he’d gotten himself banished. He carried it with him to the living world, sampling the light pink, rarely harvested substance. He always had it on his person until quite recently when he gave it to that tentacled beast Margot in exchange for the information on where to find Emily. He still remembered it. Just the taste of it drove him mad. He couldn’t rationalize it. He couldn’t fuck it away. He couldn’t find anything to replicate it. It wasn’t lust; it was this sense of belonging, being seen and valued. That was when he formed his plan. Find a newly-dead, convince a breather to say his name, make them marry him.

Of course, he’d not planned precisely this scenario. In the scene, he’d imagined his bride would have massive tits, long legs, eyes shining with adoration. Someone who agreed with everything he said, cleaned up after him, and worshiped him. A well paid Dante’s girl. He’d have never imagined he’d have this meager chested, smart-mouthed gothic princess as his betrothed—this depressing spiteful little creature who confused him and captivated him. 

The moment he saw her on the roof, however, everything changed. He tossed aside all of his preconceived notions of what he wanted. He’d recalled that flicker of emotion the ‘ _ Amare’ _ imitated. That overwhelming sensation. The feeling of having someone, being seen, and accepted. It wasn’t just about lust. The desire was undoubtedly present, but she wasn’t something he was content to fuck and forget. He needed to have her the moment he saw her. Something within him snapped, and he knew he’d be willing to destroy heaven, hell, and earth to keep her. 

Then she’d called him a bloated zebra, and he was done. Smitten. Obsessed, she had to be his. That feeling only grew as they haunted together. He’d never been in sync with another being before. Never had the flow of conversation, the sense she wanted to be around him. She enjoyed being around him. She shared his sense of humor. She proudly wreaked havoc with him, leaping onto the dining room table relishing in the scares they’d completed. She treasured the screams they’d elicited the responses of their victims as they threw whatever delivery item into the air before running away horrified. Lydia’s laugh spurred him on. He was addicted to it, addicted to her. His antics became wilder, driving that laugh from her when he couldn’t get her to scream. She even tried to compete with him. One was trying to out-do the other with each new victim that came to the door. She wasn’t afraid of him. He’d never had that experience before. She wanted to be around him, at least until she decided she needed to find her mother again. Even with that considered, she still cared for him. 

Not just cared for him. She apparently loved him? Or so Emily thought Lydia was too afraid to admit it. Beetlejuice found himself faced with a conundrum. He’d planned for marriage but not for love. He’d forced her hand into accepting his proposal but never anticipated she might want to take it. He didn’t understand love. He knew lust. He knew possession. He knew domination. He extorted her and forced her to accept his proposal to keep her forever with him. True, he’d been disappointed in her reaction when she’d initially run into the Netherworld. Not the game of chase, despite how pissed he acted, he loved that. He savored the challenge of a hunt. He’d been disappointed in her spiteful attitude, her anger, her accusation, and initial refusal to engage in the same playful banter they’d both enjoyed early on in their relationship. 

It hadn’t taken long for her to melt back into being comfortable around him again. He dismissed it musing that breathers were fickle creatures. Now he questioned if it was due to these feelings Emily accused Lydia of having. What would it mean if she did have ‘feelings’ for him? What the fuck were feelings? Other than that intoxicating substance, his mother addicted the Netherworld to. His mind went to that brief sensation sampling Amare brought him. Was it similar to the feeling Lydia brought to him? Would he be able to feel it in its entirety again? But sustain it? Not feel it in the sense that it overwhelmed him and drove him mad due to its concentrated essence?

Her delicate hand hung off the couch from where she’d draped her arm. Her fingers had been in his hair, gently stroking in a manner he didn’t understand. He knew that it felt good, and as all things for a demon, if it felt good, he wanted more of it. Lydia felt good, and he wanted more of her. He reached his hand forward, taking her hand in his, looking at the pallor of her falsely tinted skin against his deathly hue. She was warm, Beetlejuice could feel her pulse steadily confirming her life as she slept. It was like the first time he found her asleep in the house. He couldn’t make sense of any of it. 

Thinking and rationalizing all of these soft mushy thoughts drained him. He pushed them aside as he shifted his positioning, so he was seated with his back to the arm of the couch. He leaned back so he could feel Lydia’s soft breath on his neck. Beetlejuice brought her hand to rest over his chest and allowed his eyes to close again. Emily went off in search of chalk; he only needed a few minutes more of rest and was content to grant himself this in her absence. Once he heard the footsteps marking her return, he’d snap his eyes open and be back on his feet. Soft Demon no more, only the monster ready to steal her daughter. 


	10. On the Other Side

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beetlejuice, Emily and Lydia have made it back to the roadhouse but their time is limited. The hunt is on leaving no corner of the afterlife safe. Its time to cross back over into the world of the living.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm baaack! Finally was able to work through a bit that had me stuck in this chapter. Hopefully you enjoy!!! There's a bit in the first part that is a little dubcon...I don't think its worthy of adding the tag to the piece but just as a heads up!!
> 
> I wrote the first part after geeking out over my darling Kat's masterpiece "Last Demon left to Sing" Its a POTO inspired Beetlebabes fic I highly recommend. It certainly inspired the first part of this chapter we shall see if you POTO fans spot the similarity. Anyway, here's the link to that, definitely check it out!
> 
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/23869705/chapters/57376615#workskin

Hypatia had been in the Netherworld so long she scarcely remembered her journey she'd taken to get here. The memories she held of her life before were scarce, foggy, and confusing to discern from what she surmised were fantasies. That young girl who'd crossed the line between life and death prematurely was lost to memory. She'd been so enraptured by the scenes she'd taken in, the hand she held, the lies that pulled her close, and brought her to the altar before she'd effectively been sacrificed. 

He'd been so sweet to her. He met her in the living world first as a whisper in the night. She'd heard him through the mirror. One evening she'd dared to respond, called back to the disembodied voice. That brought him back every night, calling to her, luring her into a conversation. Hypatia...she'd been called something different back then, what was it then? Eileen? That name seemed more foreign than her memories. 

She remembered little things. How The moon crept in through her open window. How the Spanish moss hung in the trees and obscured her view of the stars. The deep rumble of the disembodied voice as it spoke to her. Lured her. Never luring her to sleep but luring her to him, wherever he was. 

She didn't know how long it went on. She knew one day she'd sworn to join him. He promised her love, care, marriage, passion. She'd promised him all she wanted from the world. All that she'd tried to get on her own through lying, stealing, and cheating her way to success. He promised her all that and more. Power not only over the earth but over the stars, the universe. She'd been entranced, enraptured, committed without thought. She fell entirely under the spell without ever seeing him. 

He'd called her to meet her at the mirror. He lured the promise from her lips with only the glimpse of an eye. How was she to know there were many more eyes left for her to see? She needed to cross over to be with him. Commit her soul, speak her promise aloud, swear fildey to him, and sever her ties with the living world. 

Flickering memories. Her white nightgown pooled around her, the porcelain's feel as she moved the washbasin out of the way. Her knees pressed onto the vanity—the cold blade of the knife against her finger. The marks had to be specific, he'd said. One slash drawing down from her ring finger across her palm. Crimson staining white, soiling her gown. Pain spreading through her body as the last human sensation she felt before terror took over. 

Her memory was hazy, yet she'd never forgotten the first time he'd revealed himself fully. She'd spent time when she was young, thinking of what her beau may look like. Would he sport a fetching cap? Would he be handsome? Bespectacled? In all her fantasies, she'd imagined he'd have a face. Not a rippling vast expanse of essence vaguely humanoid in presentation. 

Tentacles wrapped themselves around her in a vice-like grip. A thousand eyes appearing and disappearing as though it was flecks of moonlight on the ocean. A massive force both edifice and essence that pulled her closer and closer. She met him and recognized only his voice. There was no chance, no escape now. He'd filled her, overpowering her with his essence, and still, she wanted it all. 

He promised her power. Strength yet was vague about all. She vaguely remembered the heats of passion that consumed her soul. She lost herself within him. The unholy pleasure he brought her with each coiled limb around her form. The intrusion hurt, sensations she wasn't prepared for in any capacity that threatened to tear her at the seam. It would be worth it, he promised. The things they could do together. What they could create. The seed he placed within her. 

She could never go back. She belonged to him only. Together they would bring about the greatest force in the universe. He needed her vessel. A human life to carry forth the being that would destroy the universe as they knew it only to rebuild it. A terrible force that could shake the stars and cast planets out of their orbits. He promised every word that her feeble heart clamored to hear. She believed he'd be true to his word. 

She was wrong. She served her purpose, and he'd moved on. She didn't remember when he'd left. She remembered being told she failed. Their spawn was a failure. An experiment gone wrong. A misstep, a mistake. The same defense she'd attempted before the council when they found her, abandoned yet alive, the last traces of humanity clinging to her soul.

She'd pulled mercy from them, she'd always been good at that. She'd been hoodwinked, fooled, led astray. Pleas of desperation to keep the being she'd spawned with him. Desperate to have hope despite the foolish move she'd made in swearing her soul. The last tear she shed as a human was falsely elicited to draw in mercy. It couldn't be undone. She wasn't merely to be killed but had to serve. Her essence changed. She was no longer a human but a demon—a demon with a problem in the form of her spawn. The Shoggoth's were the problem, the Old ones, roaming from place to place vying for the right time to strike for their return to power. 

The lasting disappointment that haunted her as she took on her role in the Netherworld. She climbed and assumed power hungrily. Clamoring for the promises she'd fallen for. She had this thing to care for now. She didn't want to care for anything. That was why she ran away in the first place. She was supposed to be a supreme ruler. This creation was meant to upset the balance, place her on a throne and instead, it clamoured for her attention. 

How could a creature born from the lust for power crave affection so desperately? It clawed at her. Begging for her love, as if she had that left to give. She'd never been one for love. Not even to her family when she'd been alive. It'd only been power. She quickly learned this side of the afterlife held little feeling, little affection in its natural form so that it was impossible to recall some to give to her rotting fleshbag of a son even if she wanted to. She did not. All she wanted was more, more power, more wealth, more stature. She'd learned to harness and siphon. Addicting the denizens of the underworld to the essences, she stole from breathers. Getting them to recall the sensations they once had in exchange for what she craved. 

Addiction fed addiction. They demanded more, gave her more. She took more, drained mortals leaving them as haunted vessels on the mortal plane. Higher she rose, ascended to the status of Vicereine. The Netherworld held a strange supremacy. Of course, all were subject to the Prince's rule, but beneath that, Bureaucracy lurked, taking pieces from the various forms of government that existed topside. There were courts and councils determined by wealth, strength, and status. Hypatia ascended to mid-level but wished to rise higher. 

Now here she sat, poised in control of the underworld's most lucrative business and in a seat of power. She had higher yet to climb but was limited in her pursuit. Now it all stood poised to be ruined by the very spawn that threatened to deter her the first time and a pint-sized brat with ragged hair. 

She had a score to settle. Her spawn was tied up with this girl. This new girl who flouted every rule of the afterlife she came across. Just her existence in the world seemed to be changing it. The colors in the afterlife became brighter, The beings softer. There was an element of fascination, hope among some of the denizens of the afterlife. If breathers could cross over...could they cross over to? Have contact with the living? Pass along messages to those they'd left behind?

Hypatia was careful to keep her harvesting ritual's secrets to the few she trained in the art. She couldn't risk having routine experiences provide proof of the afterlife. She couldn't risk people going out to contact loved ones and feel the connections they'd lost. Then her empire would fall. Then she'd lose her power and be stuck in the endless abyss of nothingness left to serve her sentence for her transgressions. 

Bitterness rose as she lingered over the effect this girl had on the Netherworld. Of course, she was here because of her spawn. He was trying to ruin her life again! He'd almost managed to do so on numerous occasions. He'd Nearly destroyed her before he was stopped and punished. Watching him be banished was the best day of her afterlife. Finally he wasn't her problem. He was gone and insignificant. 

What fascinated Hypatia the most was that he seemed to care for the girl. Care wasn't something she was familiar with in any capacity. She certainly didn't expect it from her spawn, which was birthed with the sole intention to be an agent of absolute chaos. Her spawn was meant to destroy and defile everything he came across. Instead, he clamored for her attention when it was young, and now seem enraptured with this mortal. 

He had to be doing this on purpose. This was all meant to spite her. To punish her and upset her hold on the afterlife. He was trying to ruin her afterlife again to seek revenge for his banishment. Well, if that was the case, she could easily right this imbalance. She knew how to cut him deep. 

He was a full-grown demon now. He'd harnessed his powers and knew how to use them. The tender feeling in her neck where he'd nearly decapitated her was evidence of that. There were far worse ways she could hurt him now, far worse and far easier to execute. Merely by doing just that. She simply had to fix her claws around his little breather, tear her life from her in front of him to remind him just how powerless and insignificant he was. 

The imagery of this poetic thought filled her with such joy that she tilted her head back and sighed. It was like having a cigarette, soothing as the toxicity filled her lungs and brought her peace. She let herself imagine it more. The feel of the girl's flesh beneath her fingers, tearing as she applied the slightest amount of pressure. She'd taunt Beetlejuice, tell him it was all his fault, that this was what he gets for daring to think he could defeat her. She'd squeeze just a bit tighter and feel the girl break. With that, the sensation of him breaking too. Then like cracking an egg her soul would release, and she'd snatch that. Then the fun would begin. 

She'd subject the girl to more misery and torment than the afterlife had ever seen. She'd make him watch. She wouldn't give a trial. There would be no appeal as she'd been able to do after she'd been led astray. They'd be kept apart, and if he attempted anything, she'd banish the girl to the lost soul's room. Gone to him forever. That was what he deserved, to watch what his careless endeavor yielded—tormented at what he'd come so close to, finally getting someone to love him. 

He didn't deserve love. Hypatia hadn't gotten it. She'd been promised power and control over the afterlife. Instead, she got this simpering disappointment with unharnessed wasted potential. Therefore she'd do everything to keep it from him. To punish him for disappointing her. Justice. 

With that thought as motivation, she broke from her reverie and rose from her seat. She took a few steps appearing and disappearing once more in Juno's office. The exhausted caseworker didn't bother to look up when she sensed the demon's presence.

"How do you expect me to get anything done with all of these interruptions"

"I will pop in whenever I please" Hypatia snapped proudly. "Have you found her yet?"

"No, we…" Juno began to explain the efforts taken to track down the mortal when she was silenced by Hypatia raising her hand. 

"Do not bore me with the details of your incompetence" she snipped, moving to sit. "She's with Beetlejuice, that cannot be hard to trace, his magic is so poorly contained." As she spoke, she drew out a cigarette to light. Sitting back in the chair with the effortless grace she'd practiced behind the dance halls when she was still human.

"Yes, he seems to be ahead of the game on that... He's not using his magic, so tracing him is harder than we anticipated" Juno defended in an irritated tone. "We've canvased all the sectors and are beginning to search homes. He seems to have enacted some sort of cloaking magic to subdue her living features"

"Is that so…" Hypatia hissed, a coil of smoke pooled from her nose, giving her a dragon's appearance. "What a clever little shit. I want all doors out of the afterlife sealed immediately"

…

Back at the roadhouse, Emily searched through the rooms to find chalk. The home, if one could even call it, that was in such a state of disrepair. Dust and cobwebs gathered the same way they did in the living world, only with increased frequency. Still, there was an air to the house that spoke of it neglect. Whenever it came to be in the demon's possession, it was clear he hadn't spent much time here. She wondered how it was he came to find Lydia in the living world. 

She gave herself time to think over what she knew of the demon. He'd initially introduced himself as Lawerence, but when he came crashing into the house after their escape, Lydia had shouted out Beetlejuice. Where had she heard that before? Beetlejuice...Betelguese...that was the name of a star, wasn't it? No, it was something more than that. The name felt familiar, something she'd heard alluded to though she couldn't place the memory. It was like trying to recall a flashcard during an important test. 

Emily turned over stones in her mind as she tried to place the name. She stepped into what appeared to be a bedroom. Opening the door to a large wardrobe, she stepped back as a flurry of moths, and an actual human skeleton fell to the floor. Stepping over it, she riffled through its contents. It didn't appear to be the kind of place one would store chalk meant for traveling realms. Then again, it didn't seem any of the possessions laid about the roadhouse had been placed with any concern for organization. Finally, after much searching, she found a broken piece of chalk shoved in a box on a shelf with cigarettes' stubbed remains. 

  
  


Slowly, she made her way into the living room, turning over the chalk piece in her hands. She knew she should be hurrying to draw a door and send her daughter through, but something caused her to hesitate. Sending Lydia through the door would mean losing her again. She'd be sending off her only child to marry a demon. She comforted herself with the thought that there would be a time where she'd be able to see her again. All lives came to an end. True, finding one's family in the Netherworld proved to be incredibly difficult. She'd expected to be welcomed by her parents or even grandparents when she crossed over only to find an infinite abyss waiting for her. Gripping the chalk tighter, she urged herself that she wouldn't let that be the fate she shared with her daughter. 

But what of the fact she was sending her daughter home to marry a demon? She didn't know much of Beetlejuice, only what she'd been able to observe and glean from the story she'd been told. Emily meant what she said to Lydia. She wasn't perturbed by the match, at least not for the reasons Lydia pretended to be upset over. Every moment she watched between the two, she observed undeniable chemistry. It had been everything she wanted to have with Charles. There was an ease to how they fed off of each other, finished each other's sentences, and taunted each other with brilliant comedic timing. What unnerved her the most was the level at which they seemed to care about each other. Not that she wished for them to care less merely that they were so emotionally stunted, it seemed neither would take the first steps to deepen what was already there. She feared that both would be so afraid of looking weak in front of the other that they may never admit anything. 

For his part, Beetlejuice seemed exceptionally afraid of losing her. She witnessed the shift in his persona, the dangerous gleam to his eyes when Lydia mentioned her ideas of staying with Emily. It was unnerving to observe in an undead creature, but he still possessed a softness, a tangible need to entwine his afterlife with her mortality. She'd only been able to catch glimpses of it. He kept his guard up, everything about him designed to repel those around him. She'd only been able to see what she had because of Lydia, or so she hypothesized. 

Her foot crossed the threshold of the great room. She observed the sight before her with a small smile. Lydia asleep on the couch with Beetlejuice resting on the floor. The young goth rested her hand on his chest, and his hand lay atop it, cradling it. Their heads touched together with Beetlejuice's nose buried in her dark locks. The image practically gave her whiplash. To be confronted with a scene of such peace when they existed in chaos was refreshing. For the first time in her afterlife, Emily found herself calm. There was peace to be found in seeing two creatures at rest—creatures whose existence when they were awake were rift with chaos and agitation. 

She didn't have long to dwell in this state of comfort. As if sensing her presence, Beetlejuice's golden reptilian eyes shot open his head, turning to scan around the room for the source of his disturbance. Emily stepped back in the doorway though admittedly, it was pointless to do as he was more than likely aware of her exact location. He didn't turn to face her. Rather he focused his attention on detangling himself from Lydia. This appeared to pose as more of a challenge than he anticipated lending a clumsy element to his movements. 

He appeared to be trying to move away while being careful not to disturb the girl. Though it was just her arm that had draped across him, Emily knew from experience that her daughter was a light sleeper. Beetlejuice appeared keenly aware of this as well and dubious of his intention. He was trying to ensure the little breather slept on. Emily watched as he uncertainly looked around as if he was trying to figure out how to move away without the use of his magic. With a tenderness she would have never guessed he possessed he freed himself from her grip, placing her hand softly onto the couch and bringing himself to a standing position. 

Once he was able to right himself, Beetlejuice continued to look down at the girl. His fingers appeared to be twitching as they fought against a summoning impulse that was second nature. The reasons for his hyperfocus became clear in the next moment as he stepped away, returning with what appeared to be a moldy tattered blanket that he draped softly over the girl as she slept. Appearing satisfied with his efforts, Beetlejuice sat down on the coffee table before the dilapidated couch, watching Lydia with an unreadable expression. 

"I found the chalk" Emily said in a quiet voice as she entered the room. She'd been tempted to watch him longer but already teetered on the line of risk. She didn't know much about Beetlejuice, but it was clear he wasn't an entity she was keen to piss off.

Amber eyes snapped to her, narrowing in on her as she approached holding the chalk. He swiped it from her hand hungrily as if afraid she'd pull it back. Turning it over in his hands, he moved over to the wall and placed it against it. He hesitated as he started to draw the door, looking back at the sleeping girl. 

Emily had moved over to the couch, leaning over the arm of it and pushing the fringe of the girl's self-cut bangs out of her eyes. Beetlejuice didn't recognize or understand the expression on her face. It was warm, soft, and exploitable. He felt the byproduct of witnessing it spread across him like a rash. 

"Why do you want to marry her?" Emily asked, seeing his eyes upon her. He bristled at the question. Naturally, there were a lot of ways he could answer. 

"Because I want to get out" he remarked with a careless wave of his hand. Emily raised a brow at him, her bullshit detector reacting strongly to his statement. Seeming to sense her suspicion, he elaborated further, "I need a mortal life to bind myself to. She could see me so-" 

"Get out how? Like out of the Netherworld because you weren't here before?" Emily pressed on. She felt a sense of security in pushing him farther. He couldn't use his magic on her without setting off a signal to those hunting them. It was risky, but something within her told her that his desire to keep Lydia would be greater than his desire to harm Emily. "You were already in the living world" 

Beetlejuice regarded her with a cold evaluating stare. He hated questions. Is this where Lydia got the annoying habit? Well, he didn't mind all the questions she asked; it was the insistent nature with which she asked them. Always another behind the last. Relentlessly pushing for more and more information, which he was unwilling to give. 

"Yeah I was, but I couldn't be seen...till Lyds came along...but then I was stuck in that fucking house and believe me if you saw what red did to the place you'd be willing to do whatever it took to spare your decaying eyeballs" he began waving a hand dismissively 

"So if that's just what it is, you'll leave her alone after?" Emily crossed her arms over her chest, watching the demon squirm. It was ironic, a dead human causing this much discomfort in an all-powerful demon. In response to her query, he blew a raspberry and huffed. 

"I do what I want" he said definitely, opting to pivot in a manner he figured the former mortal would detest "I figure after I wed her I'll fuck her right against the wall, call me old fashioned but I like to seal things with a consummation you know? But after that yeah I'll be off in search of bigger perkier tits" 

There, a slight face of distress upon Emily's face. It wasn't quite Lydia's disgusted scowl he'd grown fond of seeing but still pleased him. Satisfied, Beetlejuice moved away to shake Lydia awake. He'd kept his end of the bargain and didn't feel like answering any more questions. 

"I don't believe you" 

Beetlejuice paused as he was about to scoop Lydia up into his arms. He'd carry her bridal style through the door and plop her down to pick up where they'd left off. They'd been down in the Netherworld for what felt like a day, meaning topside it had to be at least a week that had passed. 

"Don't care if you do, sweetheart-" he began before he was cut off as Emily continued speaking. 

"If you just intended to wed and bed her, you wouldn't have gone through with her whole mission to come and find me here. You care about her I can see it and she-" 

"I would consider my next words very carefully" In an instant, Beetlejuice was in front of her. His hand was around her throat, seeming to hum with the energy threatening to be released. "You are not my equal; I will not hesitate for a single fuckin' second to tear you to shreds even if it pisses her off."

"You can't. They'll find you if you-"

'I have the chalk" he held it up and tapped Emily on the nose with it "I can easily shred you and get her out of the door before they even register where I'm at...so go ahead.., fuckin test me" 

"I just want to know that my daughter will be ok" Emily's voice was softer, she put her hands up in a placating gesture. Unstable energy radiated from the demon before her. He was an emotional minefield. One wrong move, and it all would crumble. "I just want to know that she's safe and happy"

"She'll get to say she's hitched to one of the most eligible bachelors since Valentino came over so I dunno what she'll have to bitch about" was all that Beetlejuice offered as comfort. He moved away from her releasing his hold on Emily's neck. She rubbed where he'd just grabbed, though she did not need to breathe. It still hurt. She recognized she wasn't going to be getting any further information out of him. 

It was unsettling, but all that seemed left to her was to trust her instincts. He didn't seem keen on hurting Lydia in any capacity but was focused on 'getting out' as he had called it. He wasn't your average undead, however. She mused he had to be one of the born-deads that were rumored to be around the Netherworld. 

There were two kinds of Born-deads that she knew of. Both were rare. They were split into two categories, Born-deads and Reborns. Reborns came from the most unfortunate of mortal souls. It was a rehabilitation program that allowed souls to start over in their youth. They were reset on occasion and given a chance to rectify their lives. Reborns were a contemporary solution in the afterlife, all that had existed had yet to reach their ‘adulthood’ in this existence. Born-deads, true Born-deads were the stuff of legend. Unholy creatures whispered about that were born of ancient magic. Emily believed them to be the stuff of myth, the kind of creature that posed to threaten the bureaucracy. It seemed unlikely as he was very present before her. She didn’t know what to make of him. 

Putting aside the thoughts, for now, Emily followed him over to where he stood over Lydia. This gesture earned her a scowl, which she ignored. She sat down on the couch and placed her hand on Lydia's head. Odd to feel how warm she was in the time she'd been dead, Emily had forgotten how living skin felt when she touched it. 

"Lydia" she called softly, aiming to wake the girl up. Beetlejuice seemed unsure of what to do with himself. He didn't seem keen on Emily touching her but held himself back regardless. Beneath her touch, the teenager stirred. Reluctantly Lydia opened her eyes, blinking as she got them to adjust to the darkness around her. She hadn't gotten nearly enough sleep by any means. Sitting up, she rubbed her eyes, smudging some of the dark makeup she'd applied what seemed like a week ago. 

"Time to go, Babes," Beetlejuice said gruffly. His arms crossed over his chest. Lydia couldn't make out his expression. He seemed in a hurry but also reluctant. She surmised he was eager to collect on his end of the bargain. She frowned, there was a flurry of emotions that arose as she looked to her mother. This was it. It was time to say goodbye. The door was already drawn upon the wall, waiting to be opened and to lead her back to the living world. 

"Mom..." she breathed, her lip quivering. Emily gently cupped her face and smiled softly. 

"Its not forever Lydia" she said softly, running her thumb over the girl's cheek. "Its what is for the best, you don't belong down here yet" 

"But how am I supposed to go back to that world, to how things were?" the sleep made her brain foggy. She felt like a petulant child protesting having to go home. Emily touched her forehead against her daughter's. 

"You make things the way you want them. Your life is going to be a mess in multiple dimensions. It's a little unconventional, I know, but you have to go home to make it work. You can't just throw it away" she pressed a kiss to her forehead and stood up, offering a hand to Lydia. 

As the tiny goth took her hand to stand, Emily, turned her attention on Beetlejuice. "You'll take care of her?"

He seemed hesitant to respond. His brow's knit together as he appeared to be weighing his options on the best thing to say. He had a reputation to uphold, yet there was something in Emily's gaze that harkened him, to be honest. He couldn't be honest. Being honest was a weakness. It was how you got conned, and he wasn't going to get conned. 

"Yeah, yeah sickness and health all that shit, it's in the vows innit?" he waved his hand dismissively turning to walk over by the door.

Lydia was surprised he hadn't dragged her away with him. She wrapped her arms around her mother's body, savoring the last hug she'd receive from her in quite some time. She breathed in her scent, finding it familiar yet distant. There were remnants of the way she used to smell. Fancy perfume from the department store back in new york mingled with formaldehyde. Emily pulled back and cupped Lydia's face once more, tucking her hair behind her ear. 

"This isn't quite what I imagined when I dreamed about walking you down the aisle," she teased, linking her arm with Lydia's and taking a few steps towards the door. "Though getting married in black does seem fitting." 

In spite of the situation, Lydia laughed. She didn't know what she wanted anymore. Her confusing amass of feelings brought her to a breaking point. She simply couldn't feel; there was a state of numbness that pervaded her existence. She didn't mind it, however. It made everything easier—the transfer of her hand from her mother's to Beetlejuice's. 

"Its not goodbye forever" Emily stroked Lydia's hair before bringing her hands together to clasp in front of her. Lydia nodded somberly and looked to Beetlejuice. 

"Alright, I'm ready to go" she said quietly. She squeezed his cold hand "Thank you"

"What?" he responded gruffly. He'd expected many things from Lydia at that moment, but the admission of gratitude was not one of them. It wasn't delivered with sarcasm or malcontent. She truly looked appreciative. 

"I said thank you" she repeated the wry smile appearing on her lips once more. "What, losing your hearing now, you old creep?" He smirked in response. Their natural ease was returning, even if Lydia's eyes were rimmed red with exhaustion and grief. 

"What can I say? I'm a benevolent demon...now let's get back to business. No cold feet this time" he hooked his arm around Lydia's and pulled open the door. With one final look back at Emily, Lydia stepped inside intent on returning to the living world. 

...

A month had gone by without a shred of news. There was no way for them to check or see anything that was happening, short of one of them crossing over into the afterlife. Even that wasn't an option as they'd been informed by the grey-haired official who appeared in the living room early into this nightmare. All there was to do was to wait.

Adam stood in the living room, running lavender paint over the wall where the surface had taken on a leathery texture. In their grief, the Deetz's and the Maitlands had allied. They'd leaned on each other for comfort as they wrestled with the crippling fear of what was happening to their collective goth daughter. In no way had the pain lessened, yet in the absence of news and progress, relationships were born. 

Coexisting yielded to Cohabiting, then to Collaboration. They were invariably stuck in the house together. The maitlands by their death parameters, the Deetz' by the fact no one in the living world would understand their plight. Adam and Delia had taken to redecorating. Barbara and Charles bonded over cooking. Or well, Charles watching Barbara cooking. They'd gather all together and pour over research that might help them battle against the afterlife to get their child back. For now, Adam was content to paint. They'd settled on lavender. 

It was an inoffensive color, lighter than what Delia had chosen for the house to be painted when they first bought it but evocative of the wallpaper Adam had so loved when the house had only been theirs. The primary mission was to reclaim. It was one thing to know that that thing had Lydia in his clutches somewhere beyond the veil. He didn't get to have the house too. One stoke then two then more. Slowly the surface was covered. Adam found himself thinking of when Lydia ran through the wall at this very spot, crossing out of reach for what could be forever. 

Draw a door, knock three times. 

He wondered if that was all it took. He recalled knocking on the door in the attic, the eerie green mist that leaked from the crack and beckoned him to the other side. He could almost hear the knocking. Was that a memory? No...there was knocking. It was faint and muffled from the other side. A knock then, a pound, a curse, and then nothing. He blinked, touching against the wall. The paint was wet, and the house was still. It must have been a trick of the mind, yet seemed so vivid as if someone on the other side was trying to get through. 

…

Something was wrong. Crossing to the living world was entirely unlike the other way around. Darkness surrounded her. The only sensation Lydia was sure of was Beetlejuice's cold strong arm linked with her's. The space seemed to be closing in around them though it was impossible to tell if that was from the walls or the darkness. She sensed Beetlejuice moving. She could hear the rustle of his jacket and the rapt of his knuckles upon a solid surface. She listened to a doorknob rattling and then the slam of his hand against a solid surface. 

"Shit" she heard him hiss before the whirling filled her ears. Unknown forces seemed to grab at her. She couldn't tell what was Beetlejuice and what was the void as she was pulled back. Her arm gripping his faltered, and she screamed, falling further and further into nothingness. From across the void, she heard his voice cracking as it called out. 

"Lydia!!" 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Would love to hear your thoughts!!


	11. The Power of Touch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woah Man, the reviews from the last update! Sorry to leave you all on such a cliffhanger!! Thank you for your kind words of 'what the fuck' they motivate me more than you know. <3 <3 <3 I had a lot of fun writing this chapter. I hope that y'all enjoy it!
> 
> WARNING: description of violence and attempted sexual assault. I played with some dark themes here, proceed at your own risk.

Lydia came into consciousness, crumpled in a heap on the ground. It was dark all around her. Her body ached as though she'd fallen from a great height. She brought her arm over her chest, massaging her elbow where she seemed to have taken a hefty amount of the impact. How had she gotten this way? The last thing she remembered was linking arms with Beetlejuice and traveling through the door. That brought another question to mind, where was that demon?

"Beej?" she asked aloud to the silent air. Her ears strained to pick up any sound. The slightest rustle of fabric or mumbled expletive. Hearing nothing, she felt the tide of panic rising. She scrambled to her feet, trying to make sense of the space around her. She couldn't see anything. It was like she was in a vacuum where nothing existed around her. She brought her shaking hands up to feel at the space around her. 

Her fingers came in contact with a solid object. She ran her hands along it, above her, around her, and discovered she was boxed in. Her hands balled into a fist, and she slammed it against the wall. The material refused to budge. She was trapped. How long had she been unconscious? She struggled to manage her breathing, panic overtaking her as she considered the walls closing around her. She had to calm herself down. She had to be imagining things. Except that the walls were quite literally closing in around her. They were moving closer, pressing her into a crouching position. She spread her arms out, trying to push against them, to keep herself from being crushed. 

"No! Stop!!" She squealed. The space became so small she found herself crouched in a fetal position. Just when she feared that they'd crush her entirely, they stopped. The walls creaked as they adjusted to their new size. Lydia strained her ears to listen to the world around her. There was movement but no familiar voices. There was a scraping sound, and she had barely a moment to wonder at what it was before a light blinded her. 

A small rectangle of light shown in on her before she saw a pair of sunken dark eyes peering in at her. Lydia pressed back against the wall of the box, squinting at the brightness. 

"Ah mon petit breather, do not get scared yet" it taunted her with a bright and thick with a french accent. Lydia snarled up at it like a caged animal. She pushed herself forward to slam her fists against the wall. 

"Let me out of here!" she screeched. Now that she was closer, she could see more of the form before her. It was humanoid, pieces of the body it once had clung to its skeleton that was poking through as the body slowly decayed. It reminded her of an old pirate movie she watched where the moonlight showed the unfortunate pirate's true form. Tattered fabric hung from its frame as it smiled at her. 

"Ah, but I will, just not yet…" it responded in a rasp before sliding the window shut again. Lydia was left in complete darkness with barely any space to move in her prison. She lost her footing as the crate was lifted. Whoever was outside of the crate was transporting somewhere. She fell back against the wall of the box, trying to keep some sense of direction and think things through. 

They were still in the Netherworld. Something kept them from going back over, and now she was trapped. Beetlejuice had warned her that ' _ they _ ' were looking for her. That ' _ they _ ' would punish her if they got a hold of her and that he was the only thing keeping her from that terrible outcome. At first, when he'd said it, Lydia thought it was just a play on his end to scare her into accepting her proposal. An overdramatized account aimed at instilling fear. The more time she spent in the Netherworld, especially after the incident at the distillery, the more she realized it wasn't a con. She was in very real danger and now devoid of the one entity that could keep her safe. 

"Beetlejuice!" She cried out, her voice echoing back at her in the box. She wondered if he could hear her down here. Wherever here was. If he could, he might be able to find her. His name held power over him, and she'd seen how hearing it effected him. It didn't matter the distance or situation. When his name was said, he'd have the smallest quiver of movement almost as if a jolt ran through him, calling him to attention. It didn't seem like a comfortable sensation for him though she'd never asked. 

"BEETLEJUICE!" She screamed again, her voice rising in pitch and desperation. Her hands reached to press against the walls of the crate that held her. She needed to get out. Her mind was full of anxious thoughts that flitted around like a trapped bird. It was getting hard to breathe. She couldn't tell if the sensation was born of panic or actual loss of oxygen. It felt like being buried alive. She struggled to calm herself. She needed to call Beetlejuice. He hadn't heard her, or perhaps there was something to do with the 'three times spoken unbroken' rule. Either way, she had to keep trying as it was the only escape afforded to her. "BEETLEJ-" 

The world around her jerked suddenly. Those holding the box she was in shifted her so that she fell sideways. Her head crashed into the wall, stunning her.

Lydia blinked and tried to gather her bearings. The world was spinning, though it was difficult to tell as there was naught but darkness around her. She gasped as the crate shifted in the other direction as if the person shook it with the enthusiasm of a child shaking a gift on Christmas. Gravity flipped on her again, and she careened into the opposite side of the box. The back of her head collided with the wall. The blow knocked her unconscious, and she collapsed onto herself. 

Outside of the box, the figures listened for any signs she was still awake. Hearing none, the 'leader' of the group slid open the panel again. The breather was slumped over in a heap. 

…

"One more time, Babes, one more fuckin' time," Beetlejuice wheezed as he strained his ears to hear Lydia's call. She'd said his name twice. Each time it sent a shiver down his spine. He couldn't tell where she was. Each time she called, it gave a faint signal to him, he could see her outline in space, but there wasn't enough of a marker to determine location. Growling, he pulled on the skin around his face as panic gripped him. 

Something had gone wrong. The door was blocked, something he'd never encountered before, though it wasn't like he had many occasions to given that he was presently banished to the world of the living. He suspected Hypatia was behind this, that or one of her bureaucratic goons. Hypatia wanted Lydia. She wanted to punish him by hurting her. Beetlejuice wouldn't allow thoughts of what would happen if his mother could get her claws on his breather. The idea of it threatened to tear him apart just as she would do to Lydia's skin. 

"What are you doing here!? Where's Lydia!?" Emily's panicked voice broke his reverie. Beetlejuice turned his head to see her. He'd fallen back on the floor of the roadhouse, the portal they'd entered spit him back where he'd started and taken his fiancee god/satan knows where. 

"Shut up! I don't know!" Beetlejuice snapped at her waving his hand. He couldn't bother with her right now, Focus, he had to focus. Lydia's voice had grown quiet. He didn't give himself time to think of why that was. Straining his mind, he focused on the images he'd seen when she called his name out the first time. She was in a dark space, a sort of box. There were sounds around her, some that her mortal ears were likely unable to connect. Whirling chimes and mindless chatter. He could hear laughter and clinking of glasses. A bar?

There were a million bars in the Netherworld, fueled by his mother's successful distillery business keeping the throats of the recently deceased wet with tastes of the feelings they'd so recently lost. This was something else. He strained his concentration. The whirring sound, a slot machine? He'd spent part of his banishment lurking around casinos enough to know the sound. 

"What do you mean you don't know!? Did you let her go? Did she go back? Is she safe!?" Emily rounded on him as he jumped to his feet, giving himself the motion to try and formulate his thoughts. 

"I told you to shut up!" Beetlejuice growled, bearing his teeth at the ghost. She took a small step back yet held her ground firmly. She wasn't going to back off without receiving an answer. Not for the first time, Beetlejuice cursed this stubborn streak he'd grown fond of in Lydia. In other entities, it was far less appealing. 

Still, Emily could be of some use. She'd been in the Netherworld long enough to offer a report on how it was set up, accounting for the time from which he'd been banished. "The distillery...that's where you work, where do you sell to? Where can you buy the shit?" 

He knew there was no way Hypatia would take Lydia to the distillery. He'd already proven how easy it was to break in there. There had to be another location. 

"Are you honestly looking for liquor at a time like this?! I thought you were supposed to be getting married-" 

"THEY FUCKING TOOK MY LYDIA, AND I NEED TO FUCKING FIND HER SO ANSWER MY GODDAMN QUESTION!" he roared in her face, spraying her with spittle. He watched as her face fell and shifted from indignation to horror. Had she thought that he'd deposited Lydia in the living world before returning for a drink? He didn't care to find her reasoning. He just wanted an answer. 

"Dante's, you can buy it from Dante's. It's how she keeps the business-centered. Lure people in with a good time and libations to keep them going" the dead woman's eyes went wide with fear and understanding. "Are you saying you think that's where she is?"

"It's my guess," Beetlejuice grunted in response. "I need to get her out of there before anything happens...the door, the portal is blocked" he was thinking fast, his fingers radiating jolts of electricity in his agitated state. "You. You work for her...for Hypatia" 

"Vicerine Shoggoth, yes" Emily responded starting to bristle in her defense "It wasn't like I had a choice in the matter I-" 

"Shut up" Beetlejuice snapped again, leering at his almost mother in law. "You need to find out why the door is locked. I will get Lydia. No one is going to take her from me." 

Emily offered no words of protest. Beetlejuice was almost grateful not to face the barrage of questions or insinuations of what his efforts meant regarding his feelings for Lydia. The thoughts were not entertained. All there was room for in his being was the constant cycle of fear and blinding rage. Beetlejuice disappeared in a puff of acid green smoke, rematerializing moments later outside the well-lit edifice. 

The words Dante's Inferno Room flashing in bright lights. A large arrow pointed at the entrance where droves of the recently deceased went in search of entertainment to aide in their adjustment. There was an element to the space that fed the unquenchable desire for chaos that Beetlejuice was born with. He had to put that aside for now as he masked his appearance. His stripes became more subtle, and his shirt morphed into a western cut as a cowboy hat materialized on his head. He was indistinguishable from the other patrons now. All dressed to match the aesthetic of the casino. 

The interior of the casino was coated in lush red fabric. There was a haze to the space, bred both for ambiance and from the numerous individuals smoking cigarettes. There were Whirring sounds of slot machines and the click of cards being dealt. Glasses were clinking over chatter and the call of succubi dancing on the stage. 

Beetlejuice knew this place well, or he had before he'd been banished. Back before Hypatia rose to power, it had been a whore house. Now it seemed the place had transformed into a veritable den of gluttony and sin. 

Being in this space while not partaking in all it had to offer made Beetlejuice feel like a dog walking on its hind legs. All of his existence he'd spent in lusty venues, seeking cheap thrills and cons to dull the emptiness inside of him. The thrill of cheating the game, the flirtatious call of the girls on stage, the way the booze poured into the mouths of the patrons made him start to sweat. 

"Drink?" He blinked as a tray was forced into his face. A dozen shot glasses of different liquors were present before him by a pretty horned waitress with deep purple eyes. 

The buxom beauty smiled at him coyly and lifted one of the glasses "the first one is always complementary at Dante's…" She nestled the glass between her breasts and looked to him expectantly. Other eyes were upon him as this seemed to be the regular custom. 

Brilliant of Hypatia really to get her denizens hooked right as they stepped inside. There was the expectation to follow, and yet there was also his weaknesses as a sexual demon. She called to his desires, and he wasn't able to resist. 

His eyes went to the glass. It was hard to string thoughts together as he wrapped an arm around the succubus' waist and put his face to her chest. Her breasts pressed against his skin. They were cold and hard. So unlike the breasts, he'd been fixated on more recently.

He took the shot glass in his teeth and pulled it back, draining the liquor. Immediately the sensations poured over him. Blissful relaxation came in waves spreading to his fingertips. He smacked his lips together, letting the taste of it flow over him. Soft, spicy, vibrant, and decadent. It was familiar and intoxicating, but false. He took the shot glass and tucked it back in the demon's breasts, pinching her chin between his two fingers. 

"Thanks Sugartits" he leered before stepping away. He could tell that he'd gotten the approval of the other patrons as they'd resumed their debaucherous activities with the same enthusiasm as the new sinner had proven to be among their ranks. 

Beetlejuice wiped his lips on his sleeve. The liquor clouded his judgment and made him question his motivations. It brought him a synthetic blissful feeling, yet he couldn't dwell in it as his mind was elsewhere. 

His mind went to the moment in the alleyway with Lydia. When he'd pushed her up against the wall and kissed her under the guise of keeping her from being seen, the kiss they shared hadn't been a ruse, however. His fingers went to his lips as he let the memory come to mind. 

It swam to the surface vivid and bright thanks to the shot he'd taken. Her soft, warm lips against his, he'd wanted to pull on her chin and slip his tongue inside. He wondered what she'd taste like. He liked to find reasons to touch her when they were together, but always there was a barrier—black fabric of varying thickness and texture that kept his hands from brushing against her soft skin. 

Touching the demoness awoke a stronger desire in him. His face buried in her full cold breasts made it clear to him that the only thing he wanted to feel beneath his lips was Lydia's flesh.

Her skin was warm, where others were cold. Her dark, painted lips held a sarcastic comment for him as they rested in their perfect pout. Her heart beat where others were still. She held the power to get him out. More than any of that, she saw him when others hadn't. She wasn't afraid of him. She kept up with him, and he could never predict her. He found the one drug he'd be addicted to for the rest of his existence. Nothing would be able to replicate other than having Lydia to himself in the flesh. 

Keeping his act up, he moved about the casino. He was searching for the scene with his keen vision for areas that were away from the main room. He noticed a suited ghoul move towards a spot in the wall and perform some magic, which caused the wall in front of him to morph into a door—moving at a startling speed, Beetlejuice made his way over to the area and slipped inside. 

…

Lydia came to with a splitting headache. She groaned as consciousness returned to her, and she pressed her hand against the side of her head where the pain was centralized. She opened her eyes briefly before immediately shutting them again. The blinding light that met her dark brown hues elicited a groan from her. She pulled herself into a sitting position as she rubbed the side of her head, one hand going to rest on her brow as she opened her eyes again. They took a moment to adjust to the space around her. 

Everything around her was white. Upon a closer look, the walls seemed to be moving, depicting patterns that hurt her eyes to try and decipher. She could hear whispering around her. 

"Hello?" she called out, stumbling to her feet. She took a few uncertain steps forward, looking at the ground that was indistinguishable from the walls around her. "Who's there?" 

The patterns intensified in response to her voice. It made her head hurt. 

"You're a funny little thing, aren't you? What does he see in you?" 

Lydia spun around in the direction of the voice. She found herself facing a terrifying-looking woman. She reminded Lydia of a doll she once had as a child. A beautiful thing with bright red lips. She'd never looked the same after Lydia accidentally left her hanging playing 'circus' but the fireplace. Her plastic face melted beyond recognition. Her mother told her to keep her. They made up a story about her, Lydia's little Frankenstein. 

The woman's features were grotesque and exaggerated. Her hair piled on her head in a fashion she could only describe as Marie Antoinette post toilet swirl. She was dressed in a practical red suit; all her accessories matched even the glasses that she was now looking at Lydia over. Her voice managed to be both shrill and hoarse in the same breath. It set the hair on the back of Lydia's neck on edge. 

"Who are you?" Lydia asked, stepping back from the woman. She didn't like the look in her eyes when she looked at her. 

In response to her question, the demon conjured a cigarette and took a long drag. She blew the smoke in Lydia's face leering at her. Lydia coughed as the smoke-filled her lungs. She waved her hand and tried to brush it away; however, it moved to envelop her. She found the smoke clouded her vision, and when it cleared the space around her changed once more. 

She was standing in her old new york townhouse. Where she'd grown up before her mother died, and they moved to Connecticut. She looked around for the demon but didn't have to wonder about her location for long before she heard her voice once more. 

"I'm the one who is going to break into your head" she hissed louder than before. Lydia looked in the direction of the voice, letting out a shriek of surprise in what she saw. Instead of seeing the woman, she could only see her eye. The rest of her was not visible as she'd grown to gargantuan size. Lydia was unsure if she'd shrunk or the woman had grown. Her fear was overridden with fascination as she stepped up to the window to get a better look. When she'd lived in the apartment, there'd been a sofa here, one that she would climb onto and announce when she saw her father pulling in the driveway. 

"Why do you want to break into my head?" Lydia asked curiously to the bright yellow pupil. 

"Are you afraid?" the monster growled in response to her. Lydia took less than a moment to respond, offering a shake of her head as she answered. 

"No. This is a strange place...I like strange things...but who are you?" she asked again with the growing intensity. She'd been honest when she answered the woman. She wasn't afraid, she was apprehensive. There was something in the demon's demeanor that put her on edge, but her curiosity won out. 

"We will just have to fix that" 

The home went dark. The only source of light in the space was the glow of the demon's eyes. Lydia was beginning to get annoyed with the lack of answers. Was the response of 'fixing' about her love of the strange? Or her fear? 

"what do you want from me?" she called out to the glowing demon eye peering in at her. She heard movement behind her and spun around. In the darkness, she could hear something moving towards her. It sounded large with many legs. Lydia stepped back, calling out, "hello?" 

A mangled hairy leg stepped out of the shadows. Lydia heard the clicking of pincers and the sound of a large body dragging across the door. She held her breath, backing up until she realized in horror she was in a corner. The clicking grew louder. There was a loud creak, the creature lunged. Lydia released a piercing scream as a massive spider snapped at her. She scrambled out of the way, fighting against the many legs that presented an obstruction in the darkness. 

"No!!!" Lydia shrieked as she managed to get away. She knew the house like the back of her hand. In the darkness, she stumbled into the old dining room, sliding the heavy wood doors closed behind her. She didn't see the demon but knew she was still watching.

"Oh the little breather is frightened" it taunted "I didn't expect you'd be afraid of bugs" 

A colossal force collided with the doors Lydia just shut. The spider was still after her, clicking its pincers and scrambling its legs. Lydia felt the wall behind her and found the latch for the cabinet. 

This had been her favorite spot when she used to play hide and seek with her mother. She climbed inside just as she heard the doors bust open. Hastily she shut the cabinet door, pulling her knees into her chest. Quieting her breathing, she strained her ears to listen. 

The spider was in the room, stumbling around and sensing for her. Could spider's smell? She tried to think of the book she had on insects. They could smell, but their more powerful sense was picking up on vibrations. The hairs on their legs, detecting any minor movement of their prey. Movements like the rise and fall of a living girl's chest. Lydia had to calm down. She told herself it was just hide and seek. She closed her eyes and imagined herself younger.

_ She was six years old. She'd roped both of her parents into playing hide and go seek with her. Her parents were getting along. It was the happiest she'd seen her father in some time. Her mother had been holding up her end of their agreement and limited her spontaneous haunted houses to one weekend a month. Charles was IT, Lydia chased after her mother as he started to count down. A brilliant smile showed on her mother's face as she told Lydia to get in the cabinet.  _

_ "But there are spiders in there" she'd expressed some hesitation looking concerned as the numbers coming from her father dwindled lower and lower.  _

_ "Spiders are amazing creatures" Emily insisted, holding open the door and helping Lydia inside. "They have so many lovely legs. The fear is all in your head. Use your mind to make them less scary. Imagine a tapdancing spider, wouldn't that be cool?" she gave a start of surprise as Charles's voice got louder. He was counting down from ten now. "Oh! I've got to hide now, don't come out till I tell you, alright?" _

Lydia hid in that cabinet for almost an hour. Finally, her mother had called out to her, and she emerged, finding her father in the midst of dialing 911. He tossed the phone and scooped Lydia up into his arms, yelling at Emily that it wasn't funny as she doubled over with laughter. After Emily passed, Lydia found she could still fit in the cabinet, squeezing herself into the tiny space to imagine she was just a kid again, waiting for her mother to call out to her. 

The sound of heavy limbs skittering across the floor jolted her from her thoughts. Lydia held her breath as she tried to reduce all sounds possible to lessen the chances the spider could find her. 

Her cheeks puffed out as they fruitlessly hoped to aid her in retaining oxygen. She forced herself to think of what to do next. 

It struck her that holding her breath was pointless. Spiders depended on more than auditory senses to flesh out their prey. It would hear any intake of breath she made simply as there was no one else to make such a sound. Besides, she was a living being in the Netherworld. That automatically blew any cover she hoped to have. To prove her words true, she heard a heavy scraping from the other side of the cabinet. 

"Think of it, tapdancing. Think of it tapdancing" she chanted to herself as she pressed herself against the cabinet wall. Lydia screwed her eyes shut and braced herself as the cabinet flew open. She felt a cold rush of air in response to her shelter being exposed. She tensed, expecting to hear the clicking of pincers and scurrying of limbs. 

What met her ears instead was the sound of metal against wood. The distinct clicking sound of the metal scuffing releasing a bright brassy sound. Lydia's eyes flew open, what met her eyes caused her jaw to drop open in shock. 

The monstrous spider was gyrating. No longer was it snapping its pincers at her instead, the clicking came from the eight shoes affixed to its spindly legs. It appeared to be changing before her eyes. Its countenance became less frightful as it took on a rosy hue, Lydia could almost swear she heard it skatting. One thing was sure; it wasn't launching at her anymore. Instead, it seemed to be trying to master a series of dance steps. 

Blinking, Lydia climbed out of the closet and stepped over to it in disbelief. 

"Ra-ta-ta-ta-Ta-DAH!" It turned it to face her ending with its weight rocking back onto its thorax in what she recognized as a jazz square. "Whatddya think of my daaance moves? Think I've got what it takes? I'm gonna be a staaar" 

"Wow…um you're certainly talented" Lydia couldn't help but smile in her stunned amusement. Things certainly had changed. The spider was no longer chasing her down, nor could she really call it scary. It had a warm, effervescent quality to it. The sharp change in her demeanor caught her off guard. "What's your name?"

"The name's Ginger, Doll!" The spider's voice was as bright and brassy as her tap shoes. She kept moving as she spoke. She bounced side to side, shifting her weight rhythmically between her sets of four legs. "You really think I gots talent! Gee! You're just the sweetest! I'm so sorry about scarin ya' before I don't know what came over me, I-Ah!" 

Ginger broke off suddenly with a look of terror as she looked over Lydia's shoulder. She spun around to see what caused such a reaction and found the glowing demonic eye was back. Like a satanic sun, it shown in the window peering in at her, the rest of the demon's face out of her view. Lydia heard a poofing sound, and when she turned around again, the spider was gone. The room was dark once more, aside from the glow of the eye in the window. 

"What do you want from me!" Lydia shouted to it. As with before, it said nothing. What met her ears instead was a creaking sound coming from the kitchen. She began to move towards it but paused as she entered the stairwell. It was the typical horror movie trope, and she wasn't going to fall for it. She ran up the stairs away from the sound and went for her old bedroom. She flung open the door and found the room just as she left it. She dove under the bed out of sight of the glowing eye. 

She needed a way out of this place. The demon seemed intent on tormenting her, though she couldn't figure out what they wanted from her. She needed Beetlejuice to get her out of here. The problem was she wasn't sure where  _ here _ was. It looked like New York, but it certainly wasn't. 

This thing was going to keep coming after her. It mentioned wanting to break into her head. It asked her if she was scared. Lydia had no doubts that it would keep throwing monsters out of here until it got the reaction out of her that it was seeking. Was this part of her punishment for being in the Netherworld? Was it trying to scare her to death?

Lydia set her jaw. She wasn't going that easily. No daughter of Emily Addams-Deetz was going to admit to fear in a haunted house. She grew up on haunted houses. She could get out of this. She wasn't going to crack. 

She took stock of her situation. The spider had initially been after her, but then it changed. It changed after she told herself to imagine it as less scary. It seemed silly. There was no way an old childhood trick could be used here. As odd as the realization was for her, it struck her how negligent it would be to ignore the evidence suggesting her mind had done it. 

Her mind...the creature said it wanted to break into her head. Was this all in her head? Lydia started to consider the thought when something grazed her thigh beneath the bed. An enormous claw covered entirely in fur grabbed hold of her and pulled her flush against its hairy chest. Lydia screamed and fought against the grip. Her bed was no longer there; it had transformed into the creature that now held Lydia. 

"No!" she shrieked, lashing out at it out of instinct. She dove her heavy combat boots into its side, grateful for the weight that they carried. She liked her boots for this very reason. They made her feel strong when she went on the subway. She could crush a skull beneath her heel. She repeated this movement until finally, it released her grunting in pain. Scurrying to her feet, Lydia bolted, making it to the stairs and running back to the first floor. 

"Beetlejuice!" she screamed. She didn't know if they were in her head, but she had to give it a try. She could hear the monster upstairs lumbering around. It was coming after her. She needed a weapon, anything she could find. Her feet led her to the kitchen, forgetting her original avoidance of the room until she swung the door open. 

Another monster stood before her. She recognized it as the skeletal creature that had taunted her when she was in the box. It launched at her making horrifying sounds. She ducked away, moving to the other side of the massive granite island in the kitchen. 

In one of the haunted houses, Emily configured a miniature guillotine she'd used to cut fresh fruit. The others at the party found it terrifying, Lydia loved it. She gleefully shouted 

"Mort à la Reine!" as the blade sliced through the watermelon with dramatic flair. She channeled the same energy as she grabbed a rolling pin from a drawer and swung it at the Skeleton. 

"Mort à la Reine!!" She exclaimed, knocking its head clear off. She laughed maniacally as it flew back onto the stove. Glee born of distress flooded her body as she geared up to strike again with the instrument. "Come on! Round Two bone-head!" 

"Sacrebleu!" The Skeleton's head shouted as it collided with the back wall. Its body stumbled around uncertainty, trying to feel out where its skull had gone. A french skeleton? How apropos. Lydia had been too afraid to register his accent before. First, a tapdancing spider and now this. More and more, she suspected her power in the scenario. Could she shape the space around her? Win this monster over just as she had the spider?

Throwing caution to the wind, she moved towards the Skeleton, starting to sing as she grabbed hold of its arm. 

"Alouette, gentille alouette! Alouette, Je te plumerai!" she pulled on the bone, hearing a popping sound as it came free of the socket. The Skeleton on the stove shouted in horror as she flung his arm across the room, continuing to sing gleefully "Je te plumerai la tête! Et la tête! Et la tête! "

She reached for the other arm, starting to laugh as she plucked off the Skeleton's limbs, much like the feathers mentioned in the song. Her mother loved to sing this with her when she was growing up, of course, after translating the lyrics. Leaving it devoid of arms, Lydia grabbed hold of the skull, holding it up to her face singing "JE TE PLUMERAI LA TÊTE!!" 

What she didn't expect was for the Skeleton to sing along with her. It was laughing along with her. Similar to the spider, the countenance had shifted, become softer, and brighter. Lydia noticed a thin curled mustache appeared beneath its nose, adding a distinctly Parisian flair. No longer murderous, it sang along with her, matching her enthusiasm. They were about to start the verse singing about the beak when the kitchen door swung open again. 

The monster from upstairs stormed into the kitchen. Lydia and the Skeleton screamed. Its massive form took up half of the room, growling at her as it stepped closer. She backed away, muttering to herself. "Make it funny, make it funny, make it funny…" 

She could feel its hot breath on her neck. She held the skull to her chest as it leered at her. It smelled like a barnyard. Barnyard...country...Cowboys...Yosemite Sam? She'd watch those cartoons with Charles. It was a Saturday morning custom they shared watching loony toons and eating cereal. It was one of the only times Charles didn't have work, Lydia loved it. 

With that as inspiration Lydia looked to the creature again. She launched the skull in her hand at the monster willing her strategy to work. 

"WHAT IN TARNATION!" It exclaimed, catching the skull in its hand. It too changed before her like the two before it. Softer and familiar, like a muscular cousin IT. Lydia laughed again, thrilled her plan had succeeded. The creatures laughed along with her no longer murderous it seemed. Feeling apologetic for the Skeleton, she moved to pick up the limbs she had flung setting it back in the Skeleton's socket. 

"I'm sorry I had to do that to you"

"Et is alright. I imagine 'zat I may have frightened you, no?" The Skeleton's head was placed back on its shoulders by the monster. 

"A bit...can you tell me why you're here?" Lydia started. She felt confident in her recent discovery but sensed the demon outside was not done with her just yet. She expected the creatures to melt away and be replaced with the next monster made to torment her. The giant monster shrugged his shoulders. 

"I don't rightly know, I was just across the street, and then I woke up here... didn't mean to scare you, Miss" 

"I expect we are here because of of-Mon Dieu! Beatlejuice!" The Skeleton broke off as it looked over Lydia's shoulder. Her heart leapt into her chest in elation as she spun around. He was here. 

"Beej!" she exclaimed, running to him and wrapping her arms around his neck "You found me!" He wrapped his arms around her waist, pressing her close against him. Waves of relief overcame her. They distracted her from the fact he didn't seem to be acting the way she was used to. She pulled back to look at him, putting a hand to cup his face. 

The face beneath her hand was not one she recognized. He growled at her, his hair shifting red as his teeth bared at her. It reminded her of when he'd tried to exorcise Barbara, but this was much worse. When he asked her to marry him, his hair had turned the same hue, but there was desperation in his eyes. She didn't see desperation there, only hatred. Lydia put her hands to his chest, pushing him back from her.

"Beej?" she hesitantly asked, her heartbeat quickening. His grip on her tightened, causing her to squirm. "Hey...ease up, bug breath."

Rather than obeying her, he continued to hold her. She felt strong limbs wrapping around her waist and legs. Breaking her gaze from his glowing eyes, she looked down to see his human form had shifted. He had the body of a snake and was coiling around her. His face changed and became reptilian. His eyes became slits, and his teeth poisonous fangs. Lydia slammed her hands against the enormous tail wrapping around her, restraining her breath. She didn't know why he was acting like this. Sure he liked a good scare, but this time, he was hurting her. 

"Beetlejuice!!" she shouted, "You're crushing me! Beetlejuice! Stop!" 

…

Beetlejuice's ears perked up. Lydia called his name again. She was close. Always she stopped at the third one. If he thought he'd been frustrated with her doing this on the roof, it was nothing to how he felt now. He moved down the crooked hallway, opening door after door searching for her. He fought against his hopelessness as he gripped a doorway peering into the depths before him. He could sense he was close to her. 

He always felt a pull to Lydia since the moment they met. His decision had been made the second she'd called him a bloated zebra. Honestly, it just became more favorable as they spent more time together. He'd been so close to getting everything he ever wanted, and now his mother was threatening to pull it away from him. Not this time. 

"Where are you Lyds" he growled, slamming the door behind him and going onto the next one. He threw it open and shouted, "LYDIA!" Each door, he became more desperate—his willingness to exercise caution thrown to the wind. 

...

Lydia couldn't breathe. The coils were tight around her, squeezing the life out of her. This went beyond anything she ever encountered when he'd tried to scare her. This wasn't fear. This was murder. 

"Beej" she wheezed. "Why?" 

"Did you forget Lyds?" he growled back at her "Forget that I'm a monster? Did you think me your little demon pet?" his breath was hot and foul in her face. She turned her head only to have his tail move her chin to face him again. He squeezed even tighter. She felt her ribs crack. "You cheated me...You broke our deal and ran here...You think I'm going to let that go? Let you live?" 

"We have a deal...I-I'm supposed to marry you." 

A cruel laugh met her ears. "Right, the whole marriage...well, here's the thing kid...why would I marry you when I can pop myself right on back and get Red...or that Boohoo Ohno that your Dad dragged in...Thought it over an' I really can't let you get away with pullin' that bait and switch on me…" he taunted in her face "S'not like I need you...You're nothing to me, kid. Just another breather...a worthless ordinary mortal... You're a means to an end…invisible."

His words struck her. The dismissal cut her deep in her soul. She was nothing. Worthless. Ordinary. Something within her broke. It wasn't just the words. It was to hear them from him. She'd denied her feelings to Emily when she asked, but at that moment, she knew she'd had them. The love she felt for him twisted like a knife with his words. He used her narrative against her, their narrative. Being invisible bound them, both understood what it meant to the other to truly be seen.

She couldn't think of how to respond. The words died in her throat. She felt the limbs holding her loosen. She coughed and choked on the air she tried to intake with the sudden release of her lungs. Her side ached, her hand moving to rest on where she felt her rib crack. She tried to ration with the words he was saying. It didn't make sense, why keep the charade for as long as he did if this was his goal?

"I don't believe you...Why keep me alive all of this time? Is this real..." she wheezed, looking at him as he stepped back from her. Was this part of the head games? Could she affect him as well as she had the others? Had he been possessed in some form to act this way? She willed herself to use the same energy she had before. To see the demon she'd grown attached to. "Beej...wake up" 

Her voice was soft, her eyes wide and pleading. "Beej…"

"Lydia... Wha-wait...what's happened?" He blinked at her, his expression shifting softer. He flashed a look of disbelief as he stepped closer to her again. He raised his hand to cup her cheek softly. The sweet gesture gave her whiplash. Relief poured over her as his hair shifted to its familiar acid green, "Lydia?"

"Beej? What the hell was that? Are you...you?" she asked, giving him a searching look. A quiet voice in the back of her mind warned her that something was still off. On a good day, Beetlejuice was unpredictable. This Beetlejuice seemed volatile, to say the least. Her body ached, and her emotions felt raw after his words had cut into her. 

His thumb brushed against her cheek. She gave him a searching look. His eyes were soft, his face leaning close to her. Suddenly a sharp slap jolted her from the moment. She fell to the ground, her cheek stinging with sudden pain. She looked up at him, dazed as he loomed over her. His foot drew back and dove into her side. She curled into herself, crying out in pain. 

"Fragile little breather…afraid I have to break you." he taunted down at her repeating the gesture. He reached down to grab a fistful of her hair. He used his grip to drag her up and throw her against the wall. His hands were on her again, grabbing a handful of her skirt and slipping his hand beneath the hem. She'd felt his hands before, fantasized about them even, but this was different. 

"Beej...no" she pushed against him. Her head was swimming, reeling in whiplash. In her daze, she felt genuine fear. This monster wasn't her Beetlejuice. Her Beetlejuice didn't exist. He was a con, something created in her mind out of desperation to be seen and loved. Her body ached from his treatment, and now his claws pawed at her filling her with a sense of dread. She didn't want things to be like this. "Stop!" she pleaded. "Beetlejuice!" 

The hands tore at her dress. Her tights were off. His hands were strong, too powerful for her to stop. She tried to twist her body to escape him. To try and call out to him, to wake up the part of him that she knew "Beetlejuice!" she cried as the fabric covering her chest tore. His cold hand pawed her chest. It felt like he was trying to rip her breasts off. "BEETLEJUICE STOP" 

Her voice was desperate, tears streaming down her face. His hand went to her throat, choking her. It felt like her throat would collapse under his grip. Tears streamed down her face as the world darkened around her. She fruitlessly clawed at the hand. "P-please," she cried.

Lydia's grip on the world was weakening. His face swam before her. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head from panic and lack of oxygen. She heard a faint shout somewhere in the distance. It felt like she was floating, her body slumped onto the ground. Something was happening, loud sounds around her, crashing and exploding. 

Something lifted her. She saw stripes. He was moving her to where she didn't know. She was afraid, afraid of what his intentions were, of where they were going.

"No-no…" she cried out, the air starting to return to her lungs. The pressure against her throat lifted. "Stop-please-no" she lashed out to strike him. His arms had been where she wanted to hide when she first woke up in her old house, but now they brought her fear. 

…

Three times, spoken unbroken. She called him, and her location became clear to her. She wasn't behind any of the doors. The entrance was hidden. His senses brought him to a wall. He brought his foot up to kick it, opening a passageway into a dark room. What he saw there gave him pause. 

If Beetlejuice had a heart, it would have stopped at that moment. He saw himself holding Lydia. His hand fixed around her throat. She was half-dressed and crying. He could feel her energy decreasing. Her life was fading from her, the air being choked from her lungs by his doppelganger. Not stopping to ask questions, Beetlejuice slammed his hand forward, a tremendous force blowing into his clone and knocking it off of his breather. 

He didn't stop to see its effect. He didn't have time to assess what the room was, or what other torments possible lay poised to punish Lydia. He simply scooped her up into his arms and bolted. He ran back into the hallway. He didn't know where to go next. With Lydia in his arms, his magical methods of transportation were lost to him. He needed to put as much distance between them and the room as possible.

He found a stairwell and began to climb. His ears detected shouts of alarm from the various employees. They were on to the escape. They were hunting for them. He had to move quickly. Of course, that was becoming difficult as Lydia stirred in his arms. 

She was crying, murmuring something, and pushing away from him. Her eyes were screwed tightly shut. A door burst open at the top of the stairs drawing his attention upwards once more. He didn't look to see who it was; instead, he sidestepped onto the landing and into the 5th-floor corridor. They came to another hallway lined with doors. He threw open a door and stashed both of them inside, setting Lydia down gently. 

"Lyds?" he growled, looking her over. She was hurt, seeing the marks on her face and neck filled him with a blinding rage. He could see her bra beneath her torn dress. It was dark in the room though it felt like his hair began to glow red with fury. She opened her eyes to look at him, casting him a fearful look as she struck him. He brought his head back, causing her strike to miss. "Lydia?

The fear in her eyes gave him pause. Lydia never looked at him that way. Sure, he  _ tried _ to catch her off guard and scare her occasionally, but he'd never wanted this. She was looking at him as though he was a horrible monster. It didn't arose him like it did when other's screamed for him. _ Lydia was different.  _ He didn't want her to look at him fearfully, not outside of a prank at least.

Realization struck him as she wrapped her arms around herself protectively. Whatever she'd been through...it had been inflicted with his form—Hypatia's torment, not just to kill Lydia but to destroy both of them.

"Its me…" he said in a softer voice than he knew he possessed. He took her chin in his hand, turning her to face him. "C'mon Babes... You're out of there... I've got you" 

The use of the pet name brought her eyes to his. Big brown depths searched his face, assessing for danger. "Beej?" she breathed in disbelief. 

Relief flooded her system. Beetlejuice could sense the change in her demeanor. Powerful emotions were often the easiest to read. He gave a nod of encouragement to her, moving the hand to cup her cheek where a bruise was forming. He was inspecting the mark when she moved suddenly. Closing the distance between them and pressing her lips against his. His eyes widened in shock, his hands raised as though he was under arrest. 

She pulled back and gave him a searching look. She took in his confused expression and raised hand, "so it is you..." she breathed, putting her hands to his cheek. Her fingers brushed against the moss on his cheek as she observed his reaction. Feeling reassured, she pressed forward again, molding her lips against his. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaand I oop! Fina-freaking-ly one of these fools makes a move! Thank you for reading, I would love to hear your thoughts!!!


	12. Cold Feet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lydia's relief at finding her demon leads her to make a confession he's not quite ready to here. Meanwhile Emily works to figure out how she can best help her daughter and future son-in-law escape with the former's life still in tact.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am the absolute worst for taking so so long to update this chapter. I hit an enormous case of writer's block, which has become my trend to blame at the start of each chapter. Its pretty horrifying to look at A03 and see my last update was in August when it feels like maybe it was a month or so ago. I'm so sorry, thank you to everyone that has stuck with this story. I promise you I am working on it. I open it in a tab at work everyday to try and drive inspiration. 
> 
> A massive thank you to my discord babes for encouraging, a special shout out to @impossiblekat for giving me the push I need to get this chapter out. Encouragement is good but sometimes you need that blunt reality that its been a long ass time since you've posted. 
> 
> I hope this chapter makes sense. It makes sense to me in my fractured mind. Some of y'all might be upset with the turn it takes, but who doesn't love a slow burn baby...I promise I'll make it better at the end...
> 
> maybe?

Beetlejuice considered himself a very sexual demon. In fact, it was a facet of his reputation that he prided himself on. He enjoyed carnal pleasures in all the forms they came in. He’d participated in quite a few orgies before his eventual banishment to the world of the living. He’d never been too successful in attempting to coerce the recently deceased into a ‘pre-netherworld’ fuck fest. Death was the ultimate coagulant to the libido, at least in the initial moments when it impacted. 

Despite all of his carnal conquests, he found himself ill-prepared for the situation he was currently in. Lydia,  _ his _ Lydia had her lips on his. Her small hands held his face gently. Every tridst he’d had in the past had never been this tender. He didn’t know how to respond to such kindness. Kindness was never something he could trust. It was always used against him. His hands gripped Lydia’s shoulders, and he pushed her back from him. She looked confused as he gave her a searching look. 

“What the hell are you doing, kid?” he asked incredulously. Lydia’s expression fell, her face flushed, and she looked embarrassed. 

“I...I…” she stuttered, “I thought that you...that we-” she appeared to be searching for the words to say. She moved to twist out of his grip, wrapping her arms around herself. Her dress was torn. Beetlejuice could see that the blush on her face spread across her flesh. He wanted to touch her skin, to see if it was warm beneath his hands like he’d imagined it would be. Her voice was small and tender as she asked, “Is this...is this not a thing?” 

Beetlejuice tilted his head to the side as she gestured between them. Her brow was starting to furrow. He could sense that stubborn line of defense rising in her. That spark that he fell for. That stubbornness that spurned her to scream his name while standing on the dining room table. It was strange. Moments before, he’d rushed through the casino intent on saving her. On making her his. Only to have her willingly kiss him in a gesture so wrought with passion he didn’t know how to handle it. 

Demons didn’t do love. They did sex. He wanted her to himself. He wanted to have her for the rest of eternity. To use her to enact his plan of getting out of his punishment. Beetlejuice realized with startling clarity that for all the perseverating he’d done on having Lydia to himself, he didn’t recognize the unfamiliar tender sensation that spread through his system. It was a soft, warm feeling, and he hated it. It made him want to claw at his flesh to tear out the unfamiliar parasitic source. It felt like some sort of allergic reaction. 

“A thing?” he repeated, looking at the dark-haired girl before him. She was avoiding his gaze now, trying to use the safety pins of her dress to fix the torn fabric harmed by his doppelganger. The memory of what he’d seen overwhelmed the tender feeling within him, breeding familiar rage that made his hair flicker red. 

“Yes, a  _ thing _ ...I-I... _ fuck _ ” Lydia started again. She looked as confused as he did. She threw her hands up and brought them to rest in her hair. She seemed to be wrestling with the right words before looking to him. “I love you.” 

The words hung between them in the dark closet space. The danger that lurked outside the doors seemed far away though it was likely moments before they’d be discovered. There were only so many places to hide, and neither of them matched the normal energy profile in the Netherworld. Despite all of the dangers, Lydia’s words hung in the air, stopping time entirely. 

“You  _ what?”  _ he hissed incredulously. He remembered the conversation he’d overheard between the two Deetz woman when he’d been recovering from his fight with Hypatia. It seemed in all that transpired she’d somehow found the clarity to voice her feelings, now it was on him to figure out how to respond. 

If this was anyone else, he wouldn’t care. No, if it anyone else, it wouldn’t have happened. This series of events could only happen with Lydia. She was entirely unique, and there was no replicating her. He stared at her with complete confusion. 

“I said, I love you” she snapped back as only she could, her brow furrowing as if it was a form of challenge. She appeared to be warring with the same two sides of herself as he was. She was orbiting between vulnerability and defense. Her look was defiant. She was biting her lip as if she was keeping herself from snapping ‘ _ what are you gonna do about it?’ _

“No, you can’t,” he countered back, finding his eyes had narrowed in on her lips. He forced his gaze upwards, looking at her. “Lyds, you musta hit your head back there, you don’t worry about saying that shit to get me to get you outta here...we have a deal and-”

“I didn’t hit my head, I know exactly what I’m saying,” she countered. She shoved him, moving to stand up. “I meant it. I’m not saying it because I want something from you, I’m not saying it because I’m proud of it, I’m saying it because I had a realization, and that’s just how I feel... I’m just as shocked as you...I should hate you. I should hate everything about you, but I can’t get myself to.” she was starting to sputter, embarrassment creeping up, and her words faltering as she started to overthink them. “Back in there...away from you, the  _ real _ you at least...I thought that was it and it made me...well realize?”

Beetlejuice moved away from her as if she’d suddenly become a lathered bar of soap. He looked a mix between angry and confused as he glared at her. 

“I don’t believe you. What is this some kind of con?” he snarled at her. It had to be his mother’s handiwork. Another layer to the torment designed for him. This Lydia had to be an imposter, much like the trick he’d just witnessed where his doppelganger had been assaulting her just moments ago. The Not-Lydia had to have some sort of weapon on her, something she’d hurt him with if he was stupid enough to let her in. “You think I’m dumb enough to fall for this?”

“I  _ think  _ you’re a dumbass” Lydia looked angry, her face no longer purple but flushing red in her irritation. “So...this is your reaction then. Great...awesome…nevermind, forget it.” 

Shoving past him, she moved, blinded by her upset. Her hand wrapped around the doorknob just as Beetlejuice reached out to grab her arm to stop her from leaving. She yanked herself free, moving to open the door. She’d entirely forgotten the danger she was in. All she could consider was her flustered admission that led to rejection. 

Beetlejuice felt as though he was moving through molasses. He was lost in a sea of his own confusion. If she was a ploy of Hypatia’s he should just let her go. He needed to find his own Lydia. But what if this was his Lydia? What if his Lydia was before him and had confessed that she loved him by her own admission. Did he want her to love him? He didn’t want her to leave him, that was certain, but he also didn’t want to walk into a trap. Was he allowing her to walk out into danger after fighting to get her back? Was he willing to risk that after all the effort he put into saving her?

“Woah-wait a minute kid.” he launched forward, grabbing her around the waist. He could hear the chase going on around them. She struggled against him, beating her hands on his chest. Now a struggle he was familiar with. 

“Let me go, you stupid bloated rotting zebra-” she protested. A shout down the hallway interrupted the scene as the door burst open to reveal three orderlys. The couple froze, Beetlejuice giving a beat pause before scooping Lydia entirely into his arms and bolting into the stairwell. He ran up the stairs with her. She’d stopped struggling at this point, seeming to understand the danger present. 

The stairwell echoed the sounds around them. They could hear the Orderly’s gaining on them. Their shouts swelled and reverberated off the walls. Beetlejuice reached a landing letting out a roar as he was hit by a spectral force that blinded him with pain. He stumbled, his grip on Lydia faltering, so she tumbled from his arms. Her startled scream added to the cacophony of sounds around them. 

“Lydia! Go!” he groaned, moving to send a burst of energy at those pursuing them. He caused tentacles to erupt from the wall to subdue them. They tripped over themselves as they tried to disentangle from the appendages. He gritted his teeth, the pain coursing through him. Whatever weapon they’d been armed with was similar to the ones used to imprison him the first time. His mother’s doing, he imagined. He needed Lydia to run. He’d be able to hold them off for a minute, and then she could hide. He rolled to his stomach, trying to get himself to his feet. 

Black boots came into view from where he lay on the ground. He gave a noise of surprise as she pulled him to his feet and slung his arm around her shoulder. She grunted as she tried to pull him along with her. The uneven movement caused him to wince in pain, yet he followed along. His confusion slowed him. Free of the limitation from pain, this fog was brought on by the utter ridiculousness of the tiny mortal staying in danger in an effort to try and save the specter. 

It didn’t make sense, yet Lydia’s face was set with determination. She pulled them along, urging him to move as they went up the next set of stairs. The orderly’s were gaining on them, finally having freed themselves from his attack. They reached the top of the stairs. The only exit left to them was the rooftop. Lydia threw her body against the door, trying to urge it open. Beetlejuice gritted his teeth and forced himself through the pain. He shifted and blasted open the door, pushing Lydia out onto the roof and sending a massive ball of energy at those pursuing them. They tumbled backward as if they were as insignificant as bowling pins. 

Lydia stumbled over her feet as he pushed her away once more. Now that they were on the roof, there had to be some form of escape open to them. The roof had no barriers around the edge. They could jump right off. 

It was odd how many things in the Netherworld mirrored what she encountered in the living world. Mechanics seemed to work similarly; however, there were fewer precautions made for the event of death. Still, she figured there had to be some non-lethal way back to the ground. Even if the residents of the underworld couldn’t die, it didn’t mean they made a habit of throwing themselves off the roof. She wondered if it was like the movie ‘death becomes her’ if residents had to take care of their corporeal form after death as repairing it was difficult with decaying organic material. Her thoughts were interrupted as her eyes laid on a set of vehicles stationed on the roof’s edge. She had to imagine they could fly. Why else would they be on the roof?

She reached behind her and took a handful of Beetlejuice’s filthy striped sleeve. Digging her hands into the fabric, she yanked his arm, urging him to follow her. She didn’t look back at him as she did so. Looking at his face would bring up the intense feelings she’d been ignoring since the chase in the stairwell began. Hot tears stung at the corners of her eyes, which she stubbornly blinked away. The rejection hurt, she wanted to run from him, but the reality of her mortal peril was too paramount to ignore. Miraculously Beetlejuice didn’t fight her when she pulled his arm. He stepped out onto the roof with her, pulling the door closed behind him and placing some sort of shield on it. 

“Do you know how to work one of these?” Lydia shouted as she stepped up to one of the vehicles. It looked like an electric scooter, though she noticed there appeared to be propulsion jets in the place of where wheels would be. She hesitantly looked to see if there was a key or anything that was needed to start the machine. Beetlejuice’s answer to her was to grab her around the waist and plop her onto it. He sat in front of her and wrapped his arms around the handles. 

“Not a clue, hold on Babes,” he urged her. Lydia complied, throwing an apprehensive look at the door they’d come out of. It was clear they were trying to break through based on how the door seemed to be bursting with the efforts they were making. Lydia wrapped her arms around Beetlejuice’s torso, burying her face into his filthy torn jacket as they took off. Her stomach dropped as they propelled out into space. She felt like she was on a broken rollercoaster. Spectral bullets whizzed past them as the orderly’s made their way onto the roof. By some miracle, they escaped and were able to get out free. 

Lydia took a moment to let herself sag against him as he urged the vehicle forward into the darkness. The Netherworld didn’t have day cycles as the living world did, but the glowing sky seemed to mark some passage of time. She couldn’t rationalize that or really anything right now. Her mind was completely frayed from exhaustion and stress. Moments ago, she’d been in a torment chamber, then to be rescued and subsequently rejected by the man she was now holding onto so she didn’t fall to her death. All she could do was to go with the situation before her—moment to moment. 

“Where do we go now?” she asked, the roar of the engine threatening to drown her voice out. He didn’t respond to her. Whether it was due to not hearing her or not having a response, she didn’t know. Her mind was a frenzie with regret. She couldn’t believe that she’d uttered those words to Beetlejuice only to be rejected. It cut at her deeply. All of the wounds born of rejection from her father after her mother died now split open as if she could see the blood pouring out of her skin. She pressed her head between his shoulder blades. The very creature that had hurt her was her source of comfort. Her salvation. She didn’t press him for further questions. Whether he couldn’t hear her or didn’t have answers for her, she didn’t know, but the rejection of being ignored was too much at that moment. 

… 

Emily Addams-Deetz grew up in Winter river. She was skilled at the classic formula of repression and performance that made up the average WASP home. This was in her favor as she walked casually back into the distillery as if it was just another day in the afterlife. She had to continue acting as though she hadn’t aided and abetted two fugitives in the Netherworld. She suspected that her name was already on the top of the list, given the living fugitive was her daughter. Caution, therefore, was of the utmost importance. She stepped in and swiped her card in the way of checking in for the day. 

She was a woman on a mission. She had to figure out what had happened to the door out of the Netherworld. She trusted Beetlejuice would find Lydia. She didn’t trust his methods, nor did she trust him necessarily, but she figured he would exhaust all necessary efforts in order to retrieve her. Emily’s mission was to find Hypatia or someone close to her. She preferred not to find the demon herself as she sensed she’d be suspicious of her motives in asking about the door. 

“Che Deetz!” a voice thick with a Latin accent carried down the hallway. Emily turned her head to find non-other than the former Ms.Argentina sauntering towards her. Were she able to breathe, Emily would have released a sigh of relief. 

“Hello Carmen,” she greeted politely. “It’s nice to see you out of the office. Did you get a promotion?”

“Do you think they are going to give me a promotion when I was in the room when the living girl passed into the world of the dead?” The Argentinian snorted in derisive laughter as she rolled her eyes. She adjusted the clipboard in her hands, resting it so it balanced on her hip “I’ll be lucky if they don’t demote me to passing out the handbook….but anyway... I was told to come looking for you. Juno wants to see you.” 

“Juno? What for?” Emily asked, training her face to remain neutral. She had minimal interaction with the woman during her time in the afterlife however, her reputation preceded her. Juno was a stern woman who tolerated no amount of bullshit. She was known for being fair but ruthless. It was something Emily respected, however feared when it came to the possibility that she could be confronted on what she knew about the two fugitives. Emily thrived on bullshit. “I’ve never talked with her before...Did she say what she wanted to talk to me about?”

“Ah, well, you know...she might have mentioned something when we were getting our mani-pedis and trading our opinions on which of the boys from Boy Inferno we might let at our coños- NO! Estas loca

?” she punctuated this statement by rapping her knuckles on Emily’s forehead. “Juno said ‘you get Deetz and bring her to my office’ and I said ‘Okay!’ and now I am here, now we go, vamanos” she made a sweeping motion with her arm that, despite her agitation, still flowed with the grace of a ballet dancer. 

“Alright, Alright,” Emily conceded, putting her hands up in a placating manner. She moved after the woman as they made their way out of the distillery and in the direction of the offices. Emily had only been in the main bureaucratic building a handful of times since crossing over. There was of course, her first time in the waiting room after she left the mortal life behind. She’d since been summoned back after causing a number of issues above ground as she tried to send signs to her daughter as requested. After her third set of rats and lightning strikes, she was threatened with demotion and expulsion to the lost soul’s room, which led her to settle into her afterlife experience almost quietly—stepping into the oddly lit, slightly crooked building brought with it a rising tide of apprehension of what the questioning may entail.

Juno’s office was masked in a cloud of cigarette smoke. Miss Argentina used her clipboard to wave some of the clouds away. Emily was unsure if this was typical practice or the result of increased agitation in the chaos. 

“There you are, Deetz, sit” came the hoarse voice of a woman behind a stack of papers. Emily did as she was told, taking a seat in the chair on the other side of the desk so she could see the well-dressed visage of the older woman. Her skin was weathered, and she bore an unsightly gash on her neck from which smoke leaked. She couldn’t help but be fascinated by her macabre appearance, her lips turning up in a small smile as she greeted her. 

“Hello Juno, it’s nice to finally meet you” Her greeting was met with a dismissive wave of her hand. The cigarette pinched between her two fingers created a zigzag of smoke that rose to the ceiling. 

“No it’s not. Spare me the bullshit, Deetz. Why do you think you’re here?”

Emily sat back in her chair; she considered her options. The art of conning someone lay with observing all the things around you. It was part of what allowed her to spend a week hiding from Charles, only appearing when he was about to concede and called the police. She noticed a stack of wanted posters on the desk, all bearing her daughter’s face and name. Anonymity would not be afforded to her. To feign total innocence would be idiotic. 

“My daughter” she answered simply. Her honesty earned a nod of appreciation from the elder across the desk. Juno seemed to relax somewhat, seeing she didn’t have to threaten the younger ghost. 

“Exactly” she replied, lifting the cigarette to her lips to take a drag. “Have you seen her?”

“Yes” Emily answered, her hands lay in her lap. She worked to maintain an air of casualty. A half-truth suited the best when it came to a con. She had no intention of revealing more than she needed to. However, if all were to go well, she’d be able to gain some information that may help the two fugitives cross over safely. 

“Do you know where she is now?”

“No” came her honest response. There was a slight note of suspicion in Juno’s face. Irritation flickered over her features prompting Emily to elaborate. “I had seen her briefly and told her she had to go back. I knew she was breaking the law and couldn’t hide her. Last I saw she was crossing through the door.”

“Did she cross alone?” 

“I believe she’s alone now” Emily replied. It wasn’t an exact lie. When she’d crossed over, she had been arm and arm with her striped demon, however as the magic fell something had torn them apart and spat Beetlejuice back out in the roadhouse. For all intents and purposes, it meant Lydia had traveled alone. Whether she was alone at this exact moment was uncertain. The determination she’d seen in Beetlejuice’s eyes when he set out to find her emboldened her with a sense of unfounded assurance that he’d do just that. 

Juno’s beady dark eyes evaluated her. It felt like she was being dissected. She took another drag of the cigarette and watched Emily carefully. “All doors are sealed out of the afterlife. Do you have any idea of the chaos your spawn is wrecking in the Netherworld? All of our systems are out of whack.” 

“What are you talking about?” Emily asked. She hadn’t noticed the changes, having been too preoccupied with trying to figure out a way to get her daughter out than to notice subtleties. “One living girl couldn’t set that much change…”

“No?’ Juno scowled. She regarded her with an irritated expression, the cigarette pinched between her fingers nearly falling as she pulled up a newspaper and tossed it across the desk at Emily. Unfolding the day’s copy of  _ The Netherworld Times _ , Emily looked over the front page news. The top story was an amassing off accounts from Netherworld inhabitants listing changes they’d experienced in their day to day oblivion. One account detailed a perfect beach weather on the Stench Riviera, a location typically plagued by constant hail storms. Another spoke of family members being reunited after years of separation in the afterlife. A third spoke of an experience where the reporter experienced joy organically for the first time since they’d died. The accounts, while largely benign, were astounding in a sense. They undermined what the Netherworld was known for. It was a place of in-betweens, of absence and stagnation. Boy Inferno summarized it best; everything was  _ meh _ . Was it possible that Lydia’s presence was challenging that very notion?

“I was listening to the radio, and in the middle of Believe it started playing a Belafonte song” Ms. Argentina chimed in, her face indicating her own surprise at the sudden reprieve from Cher. 

“There are reports coming in from each sector of these changes. Ever since your brat crossed over.” Juno interrupted Carmen before she could continue. “You see why this is a problem now, Deetz?”

“Yes” Emily answered truthfully. She folded the newspaper carefully in her hands, her mind working fast as she struggled to think of a solution that moved Lydia out of harm’s way. She sat up in her chair, placing her hands on the desk that separated them. “What if we were able to get her out? Think of the paperwork you’d have to do if she stood a trial...if she was caught…” she gestured to the mounting stacks of paper already covering the desk, trying to speak to the tired look on the woman’s face. 

“ _ When _ she’s caught. The higher-ups are pissed about this she’s-”

“She’s just a kid...she has no idea what she’s messing with and was set to go back…” Emily interrupted her tone imploring. “But the locking of the doors prevented that. She was trying to set things right.” 

“You are aware Vicerene Shoggoth wants her punished, are you not?’ Juno interrupted. She tapped her cigarette into an ashtray before her. Her tone was weary yet difficult to read. 

“I am aware” Emily admitted, she worked to keep emotion out of her voice. Negative emotions were not hard to come by in the afterlife. They often threatened to consume you before reaching a point of numbing that was worse than the initial felt sense. “Just as you are aware that Vicerene Shoggoth is known for her lack of mercy and overenthusiastic use of force...please Juno...its my child” she took a risk and reached across the desk for the woman’s hand. 

It was a misstep if ever she made one. Not to speak ill of the Vicerene but to allow the emotion to pour into her voice. Juno snatched her hand away and stood up, moving to look out the window behind her desk that observed the room below. She stood silent for a moment, thinking. Emily continued. 

“The changes she has brought. Are they bad?” she implored, moving to her feet and placing her hands on the desk. “The Netherworld is changing. Look at these stories! Weather! Families reuniting! Feeling things without drugs! Something else to listen to besides Cher!” she exclaimed looking at Miss Argentina. The blue woman put her hands up and shook her head in her way of an impassioned plea to be left out of it. “Hypatia doesn’t want it to change because it threatens her power. She wants to snuff it out because it is a threat. That’s how she’s ruled, everyone. Even the Prince! Have you heard anything from Prince Vince? I certainly haven’t, rumor says he’s too strung out on the crap coming from Dante’s to form any independent thoughts! Don’t you think there’s something WRONG with that?”

“Careful Deetz” warned Juno, turning to look at her. She crossed her arms over her chest “The wrong person hears you talking like that, and it won’t be just your daughter’s sentence to worry about.”

“It  _ needs _ to be said” Emily responded impassionedly “There is  _ more  _ we can do with these changes. What if the Netherworld was to be freed from the artificial consumption of these feelings? What do we have to lose? What would the death of a little girl do… things would stay the same. If we let her cross back over, gave it a chance...we could see. Please Juno...reopen the doors I know you have the power...”

“You know that your daughter is engaged to a demon?” Juno interrupted her, slowly turning to give Emily an evaluating glance. “A demon who was banished to the living world?” 

“You don’t mean Beetlejuice?” Ms. Argentina spoke, “He’s engaged? You’re joking. He’s not the marrying type-” 

“Marrying a mortal would allow him freedom...its an archaic loophole he managed to sniff out. We can’t allow that”

“Why not?” pushed Emily, she knew she was on thin ice, but this is where she thrived. It was the closest she’d come to a living sensation in some time. “Why was he banished in the first place-”

“He brought terror to the Netherworld, Nearly destroyed everything. He is an abomination-”

“ _ He _ is Hypatia’s creation….and his existence threatens her reign...what if by freeing him...it is what is needed to set the tide, right?”

“You surely can’t be dumb enough to be suggesting a coup led by an unhinged specter?” 

“You surely can’t be complacent enough to accept this tyrannical leadership that has flourished under her reign? Prince Vince has no voice, it is managed entirely within her stronghold. Upsetting the balance would give us a chance to shape this life. Do you want to be stuck doing this for the rest of eternity?” she gestured at the desk covered in papers. “What if this is the chance for something more?!” 

Her voice echoed in the space as her words settled around like dust mites. The promise of something more had been what everyone hoped for in the moments they crossed into the afterlife. The hope that some variant of the preachings of every religion would hold true. That there would be a reunion with lost loves, comfort, hope, and peace. Instead, what met them was an eternity of mediocrity. Parallel existence to their earthly lives yet sanitized of all good and bad. 

“I can’t help you Deetz.” Juno sighed as she moved back into her seat behind her desk. She appeared weary as she stubbed out her cigarette, looking up at the woman whose fist was still pressed on her desk. “My sentence is to uphold the laws of the Netherworld. I can’t overthrow them” 

“Yours might be. But mine isn’t,” Emily stood up. It was the same way she felt when she told off one of her old bosses. She felt like her mortal self again. Driven, a goal identified. She was going for it. “I’m going to talk to the Prince” 

“Deetz I wasn’t done with you yet” 

“WHAT THEN” Emily turned on her heel and snapped. She slammed her hands on Juno’s desk and looked at her defiantly. The room was deadly silent. The only sound in the room was a whispered “ _ mierda”  _ from a stunned Miss Argentina as the elder specter stared down the determined woman before her. She had another lit cigarette between her fingers. 

“Bring the Prince a tonic. He’s been on that stuff for quite a while”

….

The sky was shifting in color around them. Beetlejuice kept his ears tuned but didn’t hear the sound of pursuing vehicles indicating a chase. For the moment, it seemed they were in the clear. He landed it in a dense cropping of trees that afforded them color. Funny, he hadn’t ever seen trees that sprouted in the Netherworld before. Getting off the scooter, Beetlejuice expected Lydia to follow after him. He was surprised to turn around and see her still sitting, looking at her hands in her lap. 

“Uh Lyds?” he called back to her, wondering why she wasn’t moving with any sense of urgency. She didn’t raise her head or give an indication that she heard him. He stepped up to her, snapping his grimy finger’s near her face to try and get her attention “Hello?”

“What’s the point?” he heard her small voice ask. He looked at her, confused, unsure of what she was asking. The point was keeping her alive? 

“The point?” he repeated, raising a brow at her. 

“The point of running, what’s the point of all of this?”

“The point is getting you outta here alive and then gettin’ me out on the other side” he responded plainly, unsure of why she’d suddenly forgotten the reasons for them being here. A voice nagged at him in the corner of his mind; however, it was faint. There was something to what she was asking though he couldn’t quite figure it out. What he did know is that her tone was eerily similar to what it was the first time they met, when she’d been ready to pitch herself off the roof. 

“That’s the point for you, but why should I help you? This is all pointless...just this meaningless abyss of nothingness…” she picked her head up. He could see tears snaking their way down her purple-tinted face though her expression was fierce. “There’s nothing in this for me...You can go ahead and threaten me. I can tell you’re about to. I don’t care. Either I die here or I am stuck to you eternally on the other side. What are you going to do after we get married? Are you going to leave?” 

“Not even married, and you’re nagging me” Beetlejuice fumbled for words. He hadn’t thought that far in advance, honestly. His plans had moved so quickly, and he was focused on the singular goal of getting a ring on his mortal’s finger so he could finally be free of the Netherworld. Lydia had changed all of his plans, however, not just with running away from him but from being herself. His original plot was to marry her and wreak havoc on the world of the living. He dreamed of releasing years of repressed frustration in supernatural torment. Since he met Lydia, he swore he’d have her, whether or not she wanted him. Now that she did want him, however, he was confused, it was a dynamic completely foreign to him. He had everything planned until this Breather did the unthinkable. She made him want to stay. 

“I don’t know” he admitted, looking unsure of himself for the first time. Lydia looked at him, her brow’s knit together. Those deep brown eyes seemed to see into his soul, well...if he had a soul to see into. “I’ve kinda been focused on getting there Lyds” 

“You’re just going to leave right after, and I’ll be just like I was...alone...now with my soul damned...might as well just stay here and skip the years on earth waiting for inevitable death” Beetlejuice frowned, he hated hearing her talk like this. The first time he met Lydia she was talking about death. He felt the same panic he had then, the fear of this life snuffed out before him. A life with potential. There was more to it than that. He’d seen breather’s off themselves before but with Lydia it was different. Beyond even using her there was something that bothered him deeply when he heard her talk about ending her life. The worst part was she wasn’t wrong. He didn’t know what marrying him would do to her soul but reasoned it wouldn’t help her out when it came to the afterlife sentence evaluation. All he knew is that the marriage would get him out. He’d be powerful enough after everything to spare her from any sort of condemnation or so he hoped. 

“I dunno what you’re expecting. Some knight in shining armor or some handsome prince...Sorry, Lyds you’re stuck with a dead guy?” He’d never be what Lydia deserved. He’d never win her over the way she deserved. She’d said she loved him, but that had to be the result of confusion. She deserved a prince. Someone who could take care of her. A prince...Prince  _ Vince.  _ Clarity rushed to his mind as Lydia opened her mouth to snap at him. He strode back over to the scooter and swung his leg back over. The movement caught Lydia by surprise; she reluctantly wrapped her arms around him again as he urged the vehicle upward into the sky to prevent herself from falling. 

“Beetlejuice what the -”

“We’re going to see the Prince Lyds”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Till next time breathers!


End file.
